


What are we, if not slaves to this torment?

by Astralune



Series: Lightning and Ice [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Aludrassil, Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Kul Tiras, Set after the Rise of Azshara patch, This is definitely not going to lead into Shadowlands, We're taking some liberties here, World of Warcraft: Battle for Azeroth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:34:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 20,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22741078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astralune/pseuds/Astralune
Summary: Jaina Proudmoore, Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras, is struggling with the leadership of a city-state that has been thrust upon her.Thrall, Farseer of the Earthen Ring, wrestles with years of decisions and the consequences they've had for everyone.Together, maybe they can find a way forward and ease each other's burdens - even if Sylvanas is plotting to bring about the end of everything, starting with them.(Set after Rise of Azshara, before Visions of N'Zoth.)
Relationships: Jaina Proudmoore/Thrall, Nathanos Blightcaller/Sylvanas Windrunner
Series: Lightning and Ice [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1690303
Comments: 35
Kudos: 49





	1. Prologue

Sylvanas Windrunner, Warchief of the Horde, sat alone, redolent, upon the throne within Grommash Hold as Nathanos Blightcaller entered, two hog-tied orcs in tow.

“I have brought you the traitors, as you requested, my Queen,” he said, his voice caressing her title.

“As I knew you would, Nathanos.” Her gaze turned to the guards who stood at the rear of the chamber. “Take them below, to interrogation.” The guards moved immediately to obey, which left only the two of them in the room.

Nathanos stood stiffly. He waited upon his Queen, watched her intently. Sylvanas drew a finger along her thigh suggestively. She knew the effect she had on him, of course. Cruel amusement danced on her lips.

“Certain plans are coming to fruition,” she said. “The Broken Shore, Darkshore, Teldrassil-” Nathanos shivered pleasantly at the fond remembrance. “Zandalar, Nazjatar. All has proceeded as I have desired.”

Nathanos licked his lips. “Yes, my Queen,” he whispered.

“Have you prepared our forces for the task we discussed?” Sylvanas asked, as she raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yes, my Dark Lady,” Nathanos said, as pride swelled in his breast. “Our forces, and those of our allies-” He nearly spat the word. “-are ready to move at your word.”

“You have done well, Nathanos.” Sylvanas purred, stood up from her throne, and strutted seductively toward her bodyguard, her loyal right hand. “Mobilise our pawns. It’s time to take the queen off the board.”

“Yes, my Dark Lady.” Nathanos swallowed. “And after-”

Sylvanas smirked, and struck out with her hand to hold Nathanos by his chin, as her fingers stroked his cheek. “And after,” she said quietly. “I will give you what you’ve always wanted. I will let you fuck me, until you have had your fill.” She pushed him away, spun on one heel and stalked back to her throne. “I may even enjoy it,” she mused, as she’d sat once more.

Nathanos’ voice was suddenly dry. “At once, my Queen,” he said, bowed, and left the chamber.

He had work to do.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun shone down upon the streets of Boralus, with more of summer’s bite than autumn’s gentle warmth, as the Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras, Jaina Proudmoore, attempted to flee the one enemy she had, as of yet, been unable to defeat: bureaucracy.

“Lord Admiral!” she heard cried out from behind, as Cyrus Crestfall struggled to keep up with her, his squire Taelia on his own heels. Jaina sighed, and slowed her pace. The morning had begun with meetings, the first intruding on her ruminations on the eternal conflict: waffles, or pancakes? She’d been forced to skip breakfast entirely in favour of briefings on just how much effort was involved in feeding Kul Tiras - she had been a child when last she lived here, but she was keenly aware that the usual assumption that everyone here simply fished up their own supper was far from the truth. The faction war had cost the island chain its fertile croplands, on top of the Ashvane’s efforts beforehand, and with the faction war in full swing once more trade was more restricted than ever.

That dismal note had set the tone for her schedule of endless conferences, meetings, and councils until just past noon, when Jaina declared that she’d had enough, and was going for a walk, and that no-one had bloody damn well follow her.

She had stormed down the stairs of the entrance to Proudmoore Keep, and had found her temper cooling even as she stepped into the bright sun. The position of Lord Admiral had been thrust upon her, and while she was no stranger to the responsibility of running a city - she felt a stab of old pain at the memory of Theramore - she was still human, and Kul Tiras was a massive, multiple-island sized snarl she had to carefully unpick.

The people of Kul Tiras made way for her - Jaina Proudmoore was quite recognisable, even before she became their Lord Admiral - but did not part for poor Cyrus, who had been valiantly trying to catch her the entire time. She strode along Mariner’s Row, the city’s ambit visible a moderate distance ahead, before she heard his cry and slowed, resigned to this final intrusion.

“Lord Admiral!” he panted, as he caught up to her, and fell into place one step behind.

“Harbourmaster,” she replied, though the term no longer truly described the breadth of his duties. “I believe I was very clear about following me, so I assume this is important?” There was no real heat in her tone. She and Cyrus knew each other well enough that she knew he wouldn’t be here if it truly weren’t of import.

“It is, Lord Admiral,” he said. He glanced around as if he’d lost something, until Taelia popped up beside him and handed him a clipboard. For her part, she doesn’t look winded at all, in stark contrast to the Harbourmaster. “When you left, I had the remainder of the day’s schedule looked over.” He flicked through the paperwork, then held the clipboard forward. “If you can sign these five documents, I think the rest of us can handle today’s work, freeing you up until tomorrow.”

Jaina relented, and gave him a genuine smile. “Thank you,” she said, as she took the clipboard, and set to scanning through the acts and contracts described. “You don’t have to call me Lord Admiral, you know,” she told him idly, as she traced her finger across the first page - a proclamation of material aid for those looking to get farms producing food again - to leave a signature, inscribed with her magic on the parchment.

“Of course, Lord Admiral,” Cyrus said with a straight face. Taelia chuckled.

Jaina glanced a look up at him, then over at Taelia. “Don’t use him as your example,” she advised.

“Of course not, Lord Admiral,” Taelia said. “I shall use your own self as an example of stubborn tenacity instead.”

Jaina looked up from signing off on funding for the city guard, and narrowed her eyes at the girl. “I was _never_ this precocious,” she lied.

“Of course not, Lord Admiral.”

“Perish the thought, Lord Admiral.”

Blast it, they both kept a straight face. Jaina sighed, a concession of this battle, and finished signing off the rest of the paperwork. “This all looks fine,” she said, handing the clipboard back to Cyrus. “Thank you for clearing the day’s schedule. We can resume tomorrow.”

Cyrus gave her a nod, then withdrew, and Taelia followed behind, though she glanced back at Jaina once before they disappeared into the crowd. Jaina turned back towards the city gates, and left Boralus behind - if only for a while.

* * *

The sand of Tiragarde Sound was warm through the soles of her boots as she walked along the beach, the view across the harbour as spectacular as the ships that sailed upon it, plying what trade they could. 

She passed through a small cove, with grey sand and a prominent rock cluster, that she remembered all too well - as a small child, she’d ran here, hidden from everyone, and been found by Antonidas. The day she’d been first called a sorcerer, and the day she’d first chosen scholarship and the Kirin Tor over a life of piracy.

Jaina smiled in fond remembrance. She’d been upset and worried - for the harm she’d caused another child, and for what kind of monster it made her - and she’d ran, too scared to face her family. She didn’t begrudge that young, terrified girl her fears, but she wished her problems today were so easily managed.

Kul Tiras had been made into a mess. First with the loss of Daelin Proudmoore, leaving the running of the city-state to Katherine and Tandred. Her brother had been a ship’s captain at heart, and Katherine had been grieving the piecemeal loss of her family, and neither were best suited for the role of city administration. Then Priscilla Ashvane had decided the time was right for her play for control of the board.

Her influence over Kul Tiras had grown to where Katherine had turned against her own daughter, her apparent only remaining offspring, when Jaina had finally returned to Kul Tiras. She’d known that her return would be tense. She’d tried, in the days after Daelin’s - her father’s - forces and fleet had been defeated in Kalimdor, to reach out to Kul Tiras. She had been rebuffed with no explanation, and thought to give them time to mourn, even as she knew that she herself was in need of the same. She’d try again, eventually, and they’d work it out, she’d thought.

In the end, time ran away from her, and then it was too late, and this idiotic faction war had forced them into contact. Katherine had imprisoned her, thrown her away, at Ashvane’s venomous urging. Jaina shuddered as she walked the coastline. The memory of that time was still too fresh, too sore a spot on her psyche to prod too hard. 

Katherine had come to rescue her, as Ashvane’s treachery had finally been exposed, and the missing fleet was found in short order - and, blessedly, with Tandred safely in command. The Tidesages had turned on the Proudmoore line, sold out to Ashvane and through her to Azshara, but with the fleet and - without false modesty - Azeroth’s foremost mage on hand, they had secured the island chain, and Jaina had found herself named the new Lord Admiral before she knew it, and with all the problems of recovery and rebuilding in the midst of a faction war that came with it.

Jaina rounded a peninsula, and looked out across the harbour once more, towards the ocean beyond. Out there, she could see the efforts of one of her many projects, jutting up proud above the ocean swell. The Seawall.

At some point, she’d realised the vulnerability of Boralus’ harbour. Oh, Kul Tiras had its fleets, and surely no one would attack them by sea, her councils had assured her. But the Tidesages were proof of Azshara’s interest in their city-state, and to her mind, that very belief in their impregnability meant that reinforcement was critical. Their resources were stretched so thin, strained to breaking just to keep the people fed and safe from day to day threats, that she had turned to another source for help with the project. An old… _friend_.

Ahead, she could see the shore encampment of the men and women who were overseeing the Seawall construction project. There, she knew, she would find the shamans of the Earthen Ring, resting and planning between shifts working to cajole the spirits of the earth into rising into the massive barrier across the harbour.

There, she would find the man she’d asked for help, confident to her bones that this project needed to be done.

As she approached, she saw him, head buried in a book, dressed in robes of leather and fur. She smiled, and he turned up to look at her as she drew near. His expression broke into a matching grin as he recognised her. “Jaina!” he cried out, then closed the book with a practised motion, and laid it down beside him.

“Hello, Thrall,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaina's childhood misadventure is detailed in [ivorytower's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivorytower/) excellent [Seasons.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10874367/)


	3. Chapter 3

“Construction goes well, if you can call it that,” Thrall told her, as they walked a little further along the beach to gain a measure of privacy.

Jaina smiled. It’d been an old discussion point between them. “Yes, yes, it’s not laying bricks of stone, it’s persuading the spirits of the bones of the earth to rise up in defiance of physics, logic, and possibly common sense,” she said with the tone of a recitation long grown old.

“You’re one to talk of defiance, physics, and common sense,” Thrall retorted fondly. “Or shall I start to list the storied accomplishments of one Lady Jaina Proudmoore, Archmage and Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras?” He raised an eyebrow at her, fully aware of the threat he’d made.

“Oh, please don’t!” Jaina cried. “And what did we agree about titles, Farseer Thrall of the Earthen Ring, and former Warchief of the Horde?”

Thrall grimaced as if struck, and held up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, I yield!” The two of them broke off into soft laughter, a sound Jaina found rarer and more welcome with each passing year. “It’s been too long,” Jaina said.

Thrall eyed her. “Since you checked in on us, since we had a chat, or since you laughed? Because the spirits tell me the answers are no, yes, and hopefully not, respectively.”

“The spirits haven’t told you a damn thing about me,” Jaina replied, all put-upon haughty. “For one, that’s just what  _ you  _ think. Two, the spirits don’t like mages.”

“That’s not entirely true. You have a water elemental bound to you.”   
  
“Bluey’s different-” she began.

“How?” Thrall interrupted, but Jaina ignored him.

“-and arguing about the nature of the spirits, and rumors of their restlessness, for the thousandth time will have to wait, as much as I’d love to indulge you,” Jaina finished.

“The last time you indulged me-” Thrall looked at Jaina’s expression, and changed tack. “What’s on your mind?”

Jaina sighed, and looked at Thrall for a moment in silence. The leader of the Earthen Ring looked in good shape. The wind gently tugged at the edges of his shaman robes. He’d grown his hair long, and braided it into several plaits that fell down his broad shoulders and across his chest. He stood there patiently, and waited for her reply.

“The Seawall, first,” Jaina finally said. “You said ‘construction’-” she made a face at the term. “-was going well. I fear that time grows short. Can anything be done to hasten the process?”

Thrall looked at her consideringly. “You have a bad feeling about this?” he asked.

“I do,” Jaina said quietly, suddenly pensive.

Thrall nodded. “We’ve gotten off to a good start these last days, and the Seawall has been coming together well. I do believe we’ve been able to build a rapport between ourselves and the earth spirits of this region. There’s a foundation of trust that has been earnt. I think I can make the case well enough to the spirits to let us speed up the process.”

Jaina accepted this. Of all the myriad fields of her studies, she hadn’t yet found a way to make the time to study them all, and so some fields she had left to others to be proficient in. If Thrall thought he could persuade the spirits of this land to build the Seawall faster, she trusted him that it was so.

“That’s some good news, then,” Jaina said.

“Has that been in short supply here?” Thrall asked. She looked over. He appeared genuine in the question.

“You hadn’t heard? Where have you been?” she asked.

Thrall looked away, and shrugged awkwardly, his robes shifting with the motion. Jaina hadn’t expected the question to make him bristle, but knew him well enough to wait him out as they walked.

“I’ve been busy,” he finally said. He sounded defensive. “The Earthen Ring has been focusing its efforts in Silithus of late, now that the factional forces are focusing their efforts elsewhere. Azeroth doesn’t need another washed-up orc meddling where he isn’t needed; Azeroth needs healing. I’ve been doing that.”

Jaina frowned. “You’re not washed up. Where is this co-”

“We’re here.” Thrall talked over the top of her, gesturing out towards the Seawall. The ocean between themselves and the construction had raised up, forming a makeshift walkway out as they had approached, evidently in response to the approach of a shaman. “I’d advise you to watch your step, but that water elemental of yours would probably save you.” He strode out on to the ocean, towards the Seawall proper. “Getting across the details of your design to the earth elementals has not been without its difficulties. The tapering, in particular, was a concept they struggled with.” As they reached the construction, he gestured at where deep peg-holes were drilled into the sea-facing edge of the parapat. “The mount points for the magical embellishments you wish to add were also a challenge.

Jaina had followed, her train of thought scattered as Thrall shifted into briefing mode. “I- Yes, I expected some issues with getting the details right,” she said, as she leaned over to examine the mount points. She intended to reinforce the Seawall with an arcane barrier of her own design, reaching deep within the construction of earth, and rising to a few metres above sea level - with mechanisms to allow her ships to pass through, of course. “I trust in you and your people to succeed, though - and from the looks of this, their work is as good as I could have hoped for.”

“They’re not my people, Jaina,” Thrall said quietly.

“They’re-”

“We have most of the structural work done,” he said briskly, and moved to walk further along the Seawall. “From here, we can walk unhindered to a distance only half a dozen ship-widths from the far shoreline. That, and the gap we walked over to get here, are all that remains before your harbour will be barricaded. Oh, and the gate mechanism.” He gestured ahead, where the path across the Seawall curved up to form an arch. “We’re still waiting on the gnomes to deliver the gates themselves. Until then, it serves as an excellent choke-point.”

Jaina nodded. It did indeed at that, and when she looked to the left, she could see where a pair of juggernauts from the Kul Tiras fleet - from her fleet - were guarding the gateway. “It looks like the project is well in hand,” she said.

Thrall smiled. “When you came to me to ask for help with this project, I told you that we could do this, and do it well. It’s very nearly done.” He gave her a serious look. “Your city will be safe, Jaina.”

She looked at him for a long moment, suddenly lost in her thoughts.  _ Theramore was safe too, once. That didn't last. _ “Thank you, Thrall.” She shook herself out of it, and made a decision. “Do you have any plans this evening?”

Thrall looked momentarily confused. “This evening? No, the elementals here are content and the work is organised. Why do you ask?”

Jaina idly tugged at her corset. “I was thinking you might want to have dinner. It’s been a long time.” She paused. “And I could use the company of someone who isn’t after something from me.”

Thrall grinned. “What makes you think I wouldn’t want something from you?” His grin softened, and he was silent for a moment. “I’d be honoured, Jaina,” he said.

Jaina smiled gratefully. “Fantastic,” she said. “Come by the Keep at- hmm. Sunset?” The Earthen Ring weren’t in the habit of carrying clocks around with them.

“Sunset, then. Do you want me to walk you back?”

“Thank you, no. I have some work that I really ought to get done.” Jaina raised a hand, and made an elaborate gesture. Arcane teleportation magics appeared around her.

“Until then,” Thrall said, as Jaina disappeared from the Seawall.

* * *

Jaina appeared in the teleportation chamber that had been set up shortly after her appointment to Lord Admiral, just within the entrance to Proudmoore Keep, feeling a lot better than she had when she’d left. Perhaps some would think it childish of her, but she had needed the break. She wasn’t a machine, a device that ran perfectly all the time.

She tracked down Cyrus, and took over once more, which released the harbourmaster to continue with his own workload. She bent herself to the work of administration for Boralus, and the realms of Kul Tiras beyond. The work seemed easier, her mood lightened by both the walk and the knowledge that when the day was done, she’d finally have some downtime to simply chat and socialise with an old friend who wasn’t angling for her to sign off on something.

It had been far too long.


	4. Chapter 4

Thrall approached the intimidating entrance to Proudmoore Keep nervously. He’d fished out a clean set of robes from the scant gear he’d brought with him to Kul Tiras, and had seen that the Seawall was in hand. Truthfully, the shamans he’d brought with him knew their business as well as he did, or better, and there was hardly any need for his oversight at all, but his emotions had been tilted off-balance after the visit by Jaina, and the invitation for dinner.

Once, such an occurrence had been commonplace, but that was a long time ago, and an entire continent away. The world had gotten busy, and there had been mistakes. So many mistakes.

Having allowed his relationship with Jaina Proudmoore to slowly wither from inattention had been one of them.

The door guards stood down at his approach, and indicated he should enter and head toward the left stairs. Thrall thanked the guards, and made his way forward. This was his first time inside Proudmoore Keep, though he found most human keeps had a certain similarity to their layout and look. Even so, he could see a few touches that indicated that Jaina had started making the place her own - the small side chamber that looked like it had been cleared out for teleportation, for example - and he smiled slightly, as he felt a moment’s pleasure at still being able to recognise her handiwork.

The stairs brought him to an upper level, from which he was directed down another hallway, which led to a spiralling staircase. Thrall looked up. His destination, apparently, was up near the very top. He sighed, and quietly summoned a small spirit of air to provide an encouraging upward breeze through the stairwell as he began the climb. Halfway up, he wished Jaina had installed some elevators, despite how dangerous the contraptions had proven to be to those in too much of a hurry, or at least a portal at ground level that took you halfway up. Perhaps he would suggest it to her, if he survived the climb.

He reached the landing he was looking for, more winded than he thought he should be. _Surely I’m not that out of shape,_ he thought, dismissing the spirit of air with grateful thanks. A pair of guards stood on this floor of the Keep, and one handed him a glass of water. “Drink this,” the guard commanded.

Thrall took the glass and downed the whole thing in one go. Almost immediately he felt better, and handed the glass back to the guard wonderingly.

The guard chuckled. “It’s a new defensive measure the Lord Admiral added,” she explained. “It’s hard to assault us if you’re too exhausted from the climb up the stairs. And you wouldn’t suspect anything about how tired you felt.” She nodded her head down the hallway. “Around the corner, third door on the right. You are expected.”

“Thank you,” Thrall said. “And may the spirits bless you for the drink.”

“Thank the Lord Admiral,” the guard replied.

“I believe I will.” Thrall turned to follow the hallway, and found himself smiling at nothing in particular. He’d been surprised when Jaina had asked him to dinner, and then nervous for most of the afternoon - he still was, honestly - but it had been a _pleasant_ surprise. 

He reached the third door, and before he could knock, the doors opened by magic. He saw Jaina turn toward him, and his greeting died unsaid as his mouth went dry.

Jaina had changed out of the clothes she usually wore these days, into a stunning dress in shimmering blue hue. It ran down to the ground, but had a slit up the side, nearly up to her hip, and he could glimpse stockings that ran up her thighs. The corset was pulled in firm, and showed off her breasts quite nicely, and she’d let loose her hair, cascading over her shoulders in white with strands of gold. She smiled at him. “Thrall, you made it!”

Thrall swallowed, his nervousness back. “I. Uh.” He swallowed again. “I almost didn’t. The stairs.”

Jaina let out a brief laugh. “Oh, of course! Another precaution, you understand. I should have warned you.”

Thrall nodded, distracted. “I feel rather underdressed,” he admitted, as he gestured at his robes.

“Nonsense,” Jaina reassured him, and looked back at him with a smile. “I don’t get out of my arcane gear very often these days, and I didn’t ask you here for a formal occasion.” She ran her hands down the sides of her dress, and Thrall would almost say nervously, if that weren’t patently absurd. “I just wanted to look nice.”

“You do,” Thrall said simply, and her grin widened.

“Won’t you come in?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Oh. He’d been standing in the doorway this whole time. Thrall stepped forward, and the doors swung ponderously shut behind him. He took the opportunity to look around the room. There was a table to his right, enough to comfortably seat four or six, if they were willing to bump elbows, with a checkered cloth pulled over it. The table itself was overburdened with a variety of foodstuffs - he could recognise fresh breads, salads, battered fish, roast vegetables and heavily sauced pastas, amongst others - and in the centre, bottles of water and wine, obviously chilled via arcane mean if the curling wisps of air caressing the bottles was any indication. A comfortable looking lounge ran along the left wall, and it looked all the more inviting after the long day spent working to construct the Seawall.

Beyond, the room opened up to a balcony, and past that, a breathtaking view of the harbour, starlight twinkling off the waves and ships now that the sun had set. Around the table, further to the right, he could see the edge of a bed through the stone arch that marked the separation between this room and the next one over, and behind it what was no doubt merely one of many bookcases, filled to near overflowing with books and tomes of varying colours on their spines. Jaina had never liked being far from her books of arcane lore, he recalled.

Jaina’s expression had shifted to concern. He realised he’s been quiet a little too long as he looked around. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a meeting that didn’t have an agenda and minutes being written.” He moved to sit at the table.

Her look of worry evaporated, replaced with a sad smile. “I can relate only too well,” Jaina said, as she circled around the table to sit gracefully across from her guest.”It’s also been too long since you and I were able to do this. Do you remember, all those times in Theramore and Durotar?” She reached for some of the roast potatoes. “Help yourself,” she added.

Thrall took some of the bread. “I do remember,” he said. “It was a simpler time, then. I was _so_ idealistic, and you, we-” He smiled across the table at her. “There have been times where I’ve missed this, and your company.”

“Well,” Jaina replied around a mouthful of food. “You dodged my inquiries when I asked earlier today what you’d been up to. Maybe you’d like to tell me now?” The question had been asked lightly, but there was no mistaking the keen interest behind her eyes in the answer.

Thrall sighed, and gave her a flat look across the table. It worked about as well on her as it ever had, which is to say, it failed utterly. “How far back would you like me to go?”

Jaina shrugged, reached for a bottle of wine, and began pouring them each a full goblet. “The Broken Shore should suffice. I was preoccupied for a time after that.”

Thrall frowned as he took the goblet she offered. “That’s right, you _did_ disappear for a while there. What was that all about?”

Jaina flashed him a devilish smile, and he shivered a little. “Oh, no no no. You first,” she said in a playful tone.

Thrall relented. “Alright, alright. Vol’jin fell on the Broken Shore, and Sylvanas became Warchief of the Horde.” He paused to see if Jaina would interrupt. She did not - instead, she sipped her wine and waited him out. “I decided it was best to step back, so I sought out the Earthen Ring, and put my efforts to good use there. In time, Silithus was broken by Sargeras’ sword, and as leader of the Earthen Ring, I was at the forefront of our efforts to heal the land, to soothe Azeroth while around us I saw Horde and Alliance both care only for the damage they could inflict on each other. Eventually, the faction war focus moved elsewhere, and, with the giant sword stabbed into Azeroth apparently forgotten, we continued our work. Then one day I got a message from the Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras. I had no idea what they would want with me, and then I discovered who the Lord Admiral is.” He nodded his head at her with a smile. “I still found it surprising. It had been.... a while.” He reached for some of the fish.

“It had,” she agreed. “Alright, my turn. I was there for part of the Broken Shore landing. Then I realised there was another attack going on, a magical one, against Azeroth as a whole. I had to leave immediately to tend to the planetary defense. I needed a place of power to conduct it from. Fortunately, I had such a place up my sleeve.” She held up an arm to demonstrate, then briefly scowled as she remembered her dress had no sleeves. “I was thus occupied for most of the Legion invasion, preventing our world from dying from within. Afterward, that pesky faction war you mentioned forced my hand. I returned to Kul Tiras, and my mother locked me up.”

“She _what!?_ ” Thrall interrupted.

“Theramore, and Daelin,” Jaina replied simply, sadly. “My mother - the people of Kul Tiras - had never forgiven me for what they thought I had done.”

Thrall’s eyes widened. “For what I had done.”

Jaina smiled sadly. “We. For what _we_ had done.”

Thrall thought about that for a moment. “What happened next?” he prodded.

Jaina shook herself slightly. “I was freed, eventually. We found our lost fleet, turned the tables on the Tidesages who had sold out to Ashvane - one of our nobles - and Azshara, and I became Lord Admiral.” She put down her drink, and leant across the table in a way Thrall found mildly distracting. “Tell me, truthfully,” she asked softly. “Why aren’t you leading the Horde?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaina's adventure during the Legion Invasion is detailed in [Deepest Blue.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14516355)


	5. Chapter 5

Thrall looked at Jaina across the table. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard the question. It was whispered in crowds and muttered in dark corners, places where he could pretend not to hear. The odd person had tried asking him outright, and he’d deftly deflected the question. But, for Jaina, he found himself wanting to answer.

“I’ve done that before,” Thrall said slowly. “I’ve done it before, and done it well. By the Spirits, it was hard, but satisfying work! Gathering my people together, leading them to Kalimdor, founding Durotar, making a home…” His eyes glittered. “You remember?”

Jaina smiled, a little ruefully. “I do. My own people, constructing Theramore brick by brick, making a place they could feel safe…” Her eyes flicked up to him. “Meeting the commander of the Horde, finding common ground there, a common purpose to look after our people that we could pursue together in a way that made us both stronger.”

“Yes!” Thrall said, a little of the excitement of those days bleeding into his tone. “Those were good days.” He shook his head. “What happened?”

It had been rhetorical, but Jaina, of course, had an answer. “For me, it was the destruction of Theramore. But I turn your question around, Thrall. What happened?” Her gaze was intent, concerned.

Thrall sighed. “It was easier, then, I think. It was easier to see the right path, to heed the voice of the spirits, to do what was _right_ and _good_. But, gradually… it became harder to see. I made mistakes.”

“We all make mistakes-” Jaina interrupted.

“ _You_ didn’t put Garrosh in charge,” Thrall said, a thread of anger in his voice. “You didn’t ignore or rationalise all the warning signs, and you didn’t leave him without guidance, like I did. You didn’t leave it to Vol’jin to stand up to his tyranny.”

“As I understand it, you _did_ see Garrosh ended, though.”

“Not soon enough. Not _nearly_ soon enough!” Thrall slammed his fist against the table in frustration. “Not before he left a legacy of destruction. Not before he tore the Horde apart, turning brother against brother and father against son. Not before he blew up your Theramore.”

Jaina took a steadying breath. “Theramore wasn’t your fau-”

“I put him up on that pedestal!” Thrall cried. “And then I let Vol’jin take over, and then he _died_. And then I stood back, and let Sylvanas take the title of Warchief. Another leader who divides us. Another leader who is driving us to damnation! Another useless, murderous war!” Thrall looked across the table at Jaina, as his vision blurred from tears of shame. “I’ve made so many poor decisions, and every time I thought I was doing the right thing. Why aren’t I Warchief? Because I don’t trust myself.”

Jaina was quiet for a moment, and Thrall was grateful for the moment to at least try to compose himself. “Thrall.” She waited for him to look up at her. “We all make mistakes.”

“Name three of your own, then.”

“Kael, Jonathan, and waiting this long to reconnect with you.”

“I meant professionally, choices you’ve made while leading-”

Jaina smiled wryly, waving a hand. “I know what you meant. Sorry. Being too clever by half is my fourth mistake, all my life.” She looked at Thrall fondly. “None of us are perfect, not even me.” She turned morose, and held up a hand, ticking items off on her fingers. “Not intervening at Stratholme. Failing to defend Theramore from its enemies. Pretty much my entire stint leading the Kirin Tor. Not converting Sylvanas into a particularly miniscule arcane amethyst when I had the chance. Stepping in at Lordaeron, but not at Teldrassil. Not saving the world, right now, from destroying itself.”

“You take on too much,” Thrall protested. “From what I know, you weren't responsible for Stratholme, or Theramore, and all of Azeroth is too great a burden, even for your shoulders.”

Jaina nodded eagerly. “Yes, exactly. I know.”

Thrall frowned, puzzled. “Then… why?”

“Because,” Jaina replied. “The same goes for you.” She grabbed a breadstick, and gestured for emphasis. “You are too hard on yourself, Thrall. Yes, I would agree some of those decisions could probably have gone better. So could have some of mine. Yes, in the event of any future decision-making, you should strive to do better. But do I think you, at any point, didn’t truly feel like you were doing the best you could for everyone?” She stared down at him in imperious judgement. “No, I do not. Maybe you’ve lost faith in your ability to choose righteously - and no doubt that’s related to why I have neither seen nor heard of your Doomhammer of late? - but, Thrall… when you fall off the horse, you have to dust yourself off and _get back on._ ”

Thrall looked down at the table for long moments, considering her words.

“I mean, do you seriously believe you’d do a worse job than Sylvanas is right now?”

“No,” Thrall said slowly. “No, but…. I don’t know, Jaina.”

“Will you think about what I’ve said?”

Thrall nodded. “I will… consider it.” He shook himself from his thoughts. “How about yourself? How are you finding ruling Kul Tiras?”

Jaina smiled indulgently. She recognised the clumsy attempt to change the topic for what it was, but allowed it to pass. “It’s kept me too busy to study, that’s for certain,” she said. 

“Impossible,” Thrall countered, as he reached for some stew. “I seem to recall you being able to study even when we were-”

“Thrall!” she cried, delighted. “I was merely encouraging you to try harder.” She coughs. “Anyway. It’s been a constant stream of problems to be solved. The mess that was made of this place by my mother and Ashvane is a mammoth undertaking to unravel.”

“But you’ve run a city before,” Thrall pointed out.

“Yes,” Jaina said quietly. “I have. Sure, it means I have the experience, but… it still hurts, you know? Losing Theramore.” She put down her food. “Do you… ever feel like that? About Durotar?”

“Not so much,” Thrall admitted. “I may not rule, but Orgrimmar still stands. Durotar thrives. Those who were my people still live there. It’s not the same.”

“No, I suppose it is not.”

‘But I do sympathise,” Thrall added. “I’d promised your home would be safe from the Horde. I am sorry that I was wrong. I am sorry you had reason to fear the Horde once more. I hope you can forgive me.”

Jaina looked up at him, then reached across the table, taking his hand in hers. “Always,” she said, with all the sincerity she could muster.

Thrall smiled at her, and squeezed her hand briefly before letting go.

“But you asked about running Kul Tiras. Sometimes it is hard, when it reminds me of what I had lost with Theramore. But none of that was these people’s fault - maybe they were overeager for Daelin to sail off and rescue his precious, innocent daughter, but that is no crime, and they did not truly know me.” She snorted softly. “First they feared me as a child - well, some - and then they feared for me, and then they hated me, and now they praise me. Tell me, Thrall. Do the people of Kul Tiras strike you as fickle?”

Thrall opened his mouth to respond, then saw the twinkle in her eyes. “This is a trap,” he said carefully instead. “ _You_ are of Kul Tiras.”

Jaina laughed, and the sound was delightful. “I’ve missed this,” she said, as she finished her goblet of wine. “I’ve missed you.”

Thrall smiled gently. “Same, for both. I never meant to… drift apart, Jaina. The world just got so busy.”

Jaina nodded. ‘I understand. Truly, I do. The world got busy for me too. Either of us could have made a greater effort. I regret that I haven’t, before now.” Thrall startled in his seat as he felt Jaina’s foot brush against his - she must have worked her shoe off under the table. “I’d like to work on improving that together, if you’ve a mind for it.” She made a show of examining his bare arms, shown off by his shaman robes. “You still have a body for it, I think,” she said, with a smile.

“I… I…” Thrall was momentarily thrown by the sudden shift - but only momentarily. “You always were good at throwing me off,” he accused her good-naturedly.

Jaina shrugged, unrepentant. “You return your fair share of volleys. I always did like that about you.” She gave him a steady look. “I’ll be honest, Thrall. I’ve no time for games, and I’ve largely outgrown them anyway. I’ve missed companionship, and I’ve missed you. If you want to share a meal and reminisce and remind each other of the embarrassing things we’ve done, I’d be delighted to pass the time with you doing so. If you’d like to leave, you certainly can, and I won’t begrudge you it. But if you’d like to find out how I managed to slip into this dress - and if we fit together as well as we once did - well, I’d be interested in that too.”

Thrall looked at her across the table, lost for words, mind reeling.

“It’ll be worth your while,” she said softly, suggestively, and Thrall felt her foot shift, first under his robe and up his leg, then suddenly it was pressed against his crotch. 

“Oh, what’s this?” Jaina said playfully. It had been an old game of theirs, back in the Durotar-Theramore days. Without really thinking about it, Thrall shifted on the table bench, and pressed his length against the arch of her foot. Jaina made a noise of mock surprise, and flexed her toes against him, as she raised an eyebrow at him.

Thrall sighed. “Jaina, I… Are you _sure_ you want this? I thought I’d made as much a mess of our relationship as I had of leading the Horde-”

“Don’t try to talk me out of being horny,” Jaina chastised him. “I know what I want.” She gave him a sympathetic look. “A simple question for you. Would you like to stay? See how the night goes?”

Thrall smiled. This, at least, he could answer. “I think I like the sound of that. You’re going to have to move your foot if you want me to get closer, though.” Oh, her foot pulled back quickly enough _then._

Thrall got up from the table, and circled around towards Jaina, as she stood up. The light shimmered off her dress. “The couch, or the bed?” Thrall asked.

Jaina’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “Why not both? The balcony is more of a second-date fuck,” she said.

Thrall reached for the straps of her dress, and pushed them down her arms. Spirits, she was beautiful. “There’s going to be a second date, is there?”

Jaina grabbed to tug off his robes. “If your cock is as good as I remember- Ohhhh...” She looked down, then into his eyes.

“Even better,” she whispered, as Thrall leaned in to kiss her. It had been _far_ too long.


	6. Chapter 6

When Jaina stirred in the mid morning, at first she thought it was Thrall’s cock, pressed against her bare ass, that had brought her to wakefulness. When she’d rolled over to see why he hadn’t replied when she’d asked if that was for her - cheesy, but a time-honored line - she’d discovered he was still very much asleep.

With a fond smile, she’d crept out of bed to fetch some hot chocolate for herself, and make some notes in a journal, when she’d felt what had actually woken her again.

It was some kind of magical pulse, from up in the north, maybe. Not arcane. Not a school of magic she could readily identify. Jaina frowned, and attenuated her senses. If it had come twice…

A minute passed, then another, before it happened again. Definitely the north. One of the smaller islands off Stormsong Valley, perhaps. Definitely _powerful._ Still not sure what kind of magic, though.

She would have to investigate.

Moving quietly so as not to wake Thrall - _that_ had certainly gone better than she had dared let herself hope for - she pulled together her usual ensemble, good for city administration and high-end magic work both. She dressed quickly, as she felt more pulses in the process - they were speeding up, and in her estimation would need to be seen to before the day was done.

As she passed through the hallway outside her rooms, she nodded at the guards. “I have a task to perform. Please let Thrall and Cyrus know I’ll be back by midday when they ask.” This shouldn’t take that long, but it gave her time before anyone came looking for her. The guards nodded an acknowledgement as she reached the stairs.

It was probably nothing, or a curiosity. But she had to be sure. She had to _know_.

* * *

Thrall woke up slowly, very naked and very alone in a very large bed.

It had been too long since he’d shared a bed. Earthen Ring work tended to involve a lot of sleeping in hastily erected tents, far from civilised conveniences like walls, heating, and mattresses. From the looks of things, Jaina had left some hours ago, however. No doubt someone had needed the Lord Admiral’s decision on something and she’d had to leave.

He crawled out of bed, reluctant to leave its comforts, but Jaina was not the only one with work to accomplish this day. His first task was finding his clothes - while his robe was next to the bed, his belt was out on the balcony, and his gauntlets had fallen behind the couch, somehow - and then, getting out of Proudmoore Keep.

The guards, at least, didn’t try to arrest him. “The Lord Admiral is performing her duties,” the shorter one told him. “She should return by the middle of the day.” Thrall thanked the guard, and began the long descent to the ground floor. As he’d guessed, she’d been compelled by duty - he knew well enough how busy running a country could be.

Soon enough he’d reached the streets of Boralus, and was making his way towards the city gates and the Seawall project beyond. If he drew a few curious stares from the townsfolk, none saw fit to bar his way, and he took it as a good sign. The faction war Sylvanas was driving had a way of flaring up tensions between different people, but if he, a rather obvious Orc, could safely walk the streets of an Alliance town, maybe things weren’t as bad as he’d feared.

How much of that was the good of the people, and how much the good of their Lord Admiral, he wasn’t sure. A little of both, he fervently hoped.

The day was as bright as his mood, as he passed through the city gates and turned onto the coastline. The night had exceeded any possible expectations he’d had - he’d hoped to have a pleasant evening meal, and if things went well, the possibility of more such evenings in the future. He had missed her presence.

Instead, they’d stayed up half the night _very_ energetically, and the other half sleeping together - well, he had. Jaina had clearly snuck off to do some work, or to study something. It was very like her, he thought with amusement.

Before too long, he reached the Seawall camp, and with a greeting for the shamans still there, he got back to work.

* * *

It was during the break for lunch that Mylra spotted someone approaching from the east.

“Ain’t that onnner yer batriders?” she’d asked, pointing at the sky.

Thrall had looked, squinting. “It certainly looks like one,” he said. “But who would be flying a batrider out here? Kul Tiras is an Alliance city.”

“ _Yer_ here, aintcha?”

“That’s different.”

Mylra had given him a look. “Uh huh, and ye didnae come back to thae camp last night?”

Thrall ignored the inquiry. “Look, they’re headed for us, I think, not the city. Send a runner toward the city, just in case there’s trouble, please.”

“A'right, Farseer.” Mylra headed off to organise someone.

* * *

When the batrider landed - just outside the perimeter of their camp - its passenger jumped off with a string of invective that would stun a herd of centaur dead in its tracks at thirty paces.

Saurfang had always hated batriders.

“Old friend!” Thrall cried out in greeting. “What brings you here, to the shores of Kul Tiras?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Thra-” Saurfang stopped in his tracks, tilted his head, and looked at Thrall more closely. “Did you get laid?”

Thrall bristled. “What? I don’t see how-”

“You _did,_ ” Saurfang said. “Finally! How long have you been playing the sad orc, pining over the one who got away? What was her name? The Proudmoore woman, right?”

“I di- I haven’t been- _Pining!?_ ”

“A decade now? Ten thousand years?” Saurfang stepped closer with a grin, and slapped him on the back in a comradely fashion. “Good for you on getting over her! But that isn’t why I’ve come.” His expression turned sour.

“It hasn’t- never mind. Why have you come, Varok?” Thrall tried to sound commanding, but it was difficult when he could hear the distinctive laughter of Mylra from three tents back.

“My friend,” Saurgang said. “I’ve come back with a warning. Is there somewhere we can talk without your dirty circle listening in?”

“Earthen Ring,” Thrall corrected by reflex. “Let’s walk.”

* * *

Saurfang waited until the camp was out of sight before he opened up.

“It’s bad out there Thrall. This war is not an honorable one. It’s _wrong._ The world is broken. Falling apart.”

“I know,” Thrall said. “The Earthen Ring has been trying to hold Azeroth together.”

“Not just the world,” Saurfang said. “The Horde is falling apart too. Do you know what _she’s_ done while you’ve been hiding?

“I have _not_ been hiding,” Thrall insisted. “I have been doing important work, Varok.”

“You’ve left Sylvanas to rule the Horde. To drive us to ruin and chaos. To destruction.”

“I left that life behind. I’m not your saviour.” Thrall looked up at Saurfang sharply. “I will not lead the Horde.” He flashed back to his conversation with Jaina the night before. _Why aren’t I Warchief? Because I don’t trust myself_.

But did he trust Sylvanas any more than himself?

“I didn’t ask.”

“You were going to!”

Saurfang shrugged, as if to say _not yet._

“I had hoped that if you would not lead, that you would at least _fight_ for the Horde.”

“I do fight, Varok,” Thrall said softly. “Every day.”

Saurfang gave him a thoughtful look, as he judged him. “This isn’t a visit over a general threat, Thrall,” he said. “Sylvanas is up to something, and it’s going to happen soon. There are troop movements, supply requisitions. She sent scores of champions off on some damn fool suicide run to the ocean floor, getting them out of the way.” He looked out over the ocean. “Something’s about to happen. All my instincts tell me a blow’s about to land. I’ve never known Sylvanas to pull a punch. We could _really_ use you, Thrall.”

Thrall sighed. “I… will consider your words.” _Twice in as many days, I’ve been confronted about this,_ he thought.

Saurfang looked at him closely. “You always were a thinker, Thrall.” He shrugged, then stepped back. “Don’t think too long. For all our sakes.” He looked back towards the camp. “I need to be back before nightfall. If you decide to help, look for us at Razor Hill. Someone there will bring you to me.”

Thrall nodded. “Thank you for the warning, regardless.”

Saurfang nodded, and they returned to the camp.

* * *

Saurfang had left hours ago, swearing up another storm to match the one building at the horizon as he climbed onto the batrider, but Thrall was still troubled.

Between Jaina and Saurfang, he’d had a lot to consider on the nature of his leadership, and that of the Horde. He’d thought his choices had led to disasters - but were there really different choices to have been made? Better ones? Or had he been _avoiding_ choices by choosing as he had?

He wanted to talk to Jaina more about it, so he’d made his way back into Boralus, back towards Proudmoore Keep. But when he got there, a guard told him that the Lord Admiral had not returned from her trip to the northern islands.

She should have returned by now. Jaina was always a woman of her word. 

He borrowed a horse from the city stables - with a pang of wistfulness, for he wished he had Snowsong at his side - and set out in search of Jaina Proudmoore.


	7. Chapter 7

Jaina had tracked the magic pulses to the Howling Isles, a small group of islands off Stormsong Valley’s eastern coastline. Their frequency had varied up and down the scale as she travelled, making it unlikely that they were natural in origin. The isles themselves, she knew little about, and the few locals she’d seen on the way had little more to add about them - apparently, most people tried to avoid them for a reason that they could not adequately explain.

She had not been surprised to find a cave entrance on one of the central isles. She was more surprised to find an energetic barrier around the first bend that sealed the entire passage and prevented her forward progress.

An hour passed, as Jaina exhausted every arcane lockpick at her disposal - and she had many. It was, she concluded with reluctance, time to consult an expert. She sighed, took note of the detailed texturing of the barrier, and called upon a particularly rare piece of portal magic. The air was slashed open, as her portal opened the way to a facility few knew about, deep beneath the earth.

She stepped through and entered the Onyx Repository, the secret library of the Black Dragonflight, charged to hold that which is too dangerous to know.

“Hello, unexpected visitor!” a cheery voice sounded from beyond the arrival antechamber. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Jaina waited, and only glanced out the door impatiently three times, before the librarian of this facility - a black dragon, though for now she appeared to be a tanned woman with fire-red hair - appeared. “Ah. Welcome to the Onyx Repository, Jaina Proudmoore. How can I help you today?”

“Thank you, Petranaze,” Jaina greeted the librarian. “I’ve run across a magical barrier that resists all my attempts at penetration. I was wondering if maybe your repository held some useful information?”

“I would have to see the barrier in question before- ah,” Petra said, as Jaina conjured up an illusion that was a fair facsimile of the original. “Interesting. Elaborate curlicues on the injunctive decoration.”

“I thought so, too,” Jaina mused. “But I haven’t seen anything like it before.”

“Fortunately, I have,” Petra said. “Not only elaborate, but _distinctive._ You shouldn’t feel ashamed for not knowing this magic - frankly, I’d be more worried if you did.”

“What can you tell me?” Jaina asked, always eager to learn something new.

“Let me answer with a question-” Petra began.

“Ugh, _must_ you?” Jaina asked, as she rolled her eyes as far skyward as she could, this deep underground.

“- Yes,” Petra replied, entirely unfazed. “How familiar are you with the shadowlands?”

“The… shadowlands?” Jaina asked. “Not terribly. It’s an afterlife, isn’t it? And not a particularly pleasant one.” Her concerns had, over the years, tended to be those of the living, not the dead, so her knowledge here was somewhat cursory. She’d never found it a bad idea to admit quickly to ignorance in a library, in any case.

“Simplistic, but that will do. Suffice to say, this barrier is empowered by magic that is of that realm.” Petra gestured at some of the elaborate runework on the illusory barrier. “This is a dead giveaway. The way magic works there requires- well. Let’s say it requires _that._ Almost unheard of to see this sort of thing, by the way. There isn’t a tangible flow field suitable for empowering their arts in the living realms.”

“You mean their magic shouldn’t be able to work here,” Jaina deduced.

Petra nodded. “Nor is it considered possible for one to cross back from there to conjure their magic,” she elaborated. “You… did find this on Azeroth somewhere, yes? You aren’t _in_ the shadowlands?” She tried to look around Jaina, at the portal she’d used to come here.

“Yes, on Azeroth,” Jaina said. “At the Howling Isles, in Stormsong Valley. You can consider that knowledge the payment for your information.” Jaina smiled tightly at the librarian.

Petra made a face. “Oh, fine,” she said. “Knowledge for knowledge; it is done.” She tugged on her vest, straightening it. “If dispelling the barrier is your aim, I may have a device that could assist?”

Jaina nodded. “Yes, please. I need to know what’s behind it.”

“Of course you do,” Petra said, and she twisted her hand in a quick motion. A short rod appeared in her grip, and she held it out to the archmage. “Aim at the portal, and feed some arcane energy in the base. The barrier should drop after a few seconds. Due date for returns is a week from the date of loan.”

Jaina took the rod with both hands. “Thank you, Petra.”

The librarian nodded. “Good hunting, Jaina Proudmoore.”

* * *

The rod had worked as advertised, and the barrier had collapsed with a whispered sigh. Jaina had continued down the cavernous path, and the walls had been increasingly detailed in glowing runes, fluorescent purple-red lines in a style that reminded her of the barrier.

She could swear that there was almost a heartbeat behind them, that matched the pulses that had drawn her here. As she went deeper into the cave, the thrumming grew stronger.

Eventually, it opened up into a larger cavern. Small trickles of water ran from holes near the ceiling, and formed a shallow underground creek at the far side. In the middle stood a pillar that, even from this distance, she could see was covered in the same kind of script that had been on the barrier and the cave walls. Jaina looked around the room from the entrance, her senses attuned for magical tripwires, or a hidden presence.

She found none, which made her more suspicious. _People don’t leave unknown magic pillars unguarded,_ she thought. Perhaps it was time to let someone know where she was, and bring through a few guards. She waved her hand in a circular gesture, and willed a portal back to Boralus to open.

Nothing happened.

Jaina frowned. Tried again. Nothing. Tried summoning a small illusion - that worked. Tried conjuring some water - that worked. Tried a portal once more - nothing.

 _Okay, deep breaths_ , she thought. _So it’s a trap._ She twisted her fingers in an elaborate gesture, and her water elemental appeared beside her.

“Shhh,” Jaina said quickly, quietly. “I think we’re about to be attacked, Bluey.”

The water elemental burbled. “Oh boy,” he said, and began looking to and fro.

Jaina stood there a long minute, her and Bluey tense, waiting for the attack that was sure to come, but she was forced to concede that whoever this was, they weren’t willing to spring the jaws of the trap shut just yet.

That left entering the cavern. “They’ll probably attack when I approach the pillar,” she said, thinking aloud as much as she was talking to Bluey.

“There’s something I don't like about that pillar,” Bluey said. “It tastes wrong from here.”

“Apparently it’s based off shadowlands magic,” Jaina said, as she eased a foot into the cavern proper, her senses alert. “You don’t happen to have any relevant special knowledge that would be useful right about now?”

Bluey agitated beside her. “The shadowlands? No, none. Things go _into_ the land of the dead. They don’t come out. I didn’t even know they _had_ magic.”

No trap sprung yet. Jaina stepped fully into the cavern, paused. Examined the room again. Another step forward.

Soon enough she had reached the central pillar, entirely without incident. She raised a hand, held it close to the pillar, reaching with her will to check for any dangers beyond the obvious. Bluey stood behind her protectively, turning to and fro. She sensed nothing. She knew it was a bad idea. She touched the pillar anyway.

The pillar pulsed black-purple-red, and behind her a barrier that appeared similar to the first one appeared through the cavern entrance. The ambient light dimmed, the ground shook, then stilled as the light stabilised.

“No,” she said out loud. “Not without incident.”

* * *

It took half an hour, she estimated, for her jailer to appear.

Jaina had expected an immediate attack, but no attack came. She had examined the pillar, but it stubbornly refused to react in any way other than it already had. She had prodded the barrier, brought Petra’s rod to bear, but either the rod was spent or this barrier was different; it had shrugged off everything she had thrown at it. She had tried digging, but great magical scoops had failed to penetrate the floor or the walls, and her hands had done no better. Bluey had examined the waterfalls, but found no suitable egress.

Finally, a voice emanated from the dark.

“Lonely, isn’t it? To be ensnared, deep underground, with no one to help you. Entirely at my mercy.”

Jaina looked around, and zeroed in on where she could sense a magical force coalescing. Black smoke curled into view, then condensed, settling into place as a figure emerged.

Sylvanas Windrunner, Warchief of the Horde.

Bluey spun in place, then launched bolts of water toward Sylvanas. They flew right through her, distorting the image as they passed. Sylvanas laughed.

“Oh, I’m not really here. Not in this mundane reality. No, I just want to have a little _chat_ with the Lord Admiral here.” Sylvanas’ gaze settled on her. “Jaina Proudmoore. Archmage. Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras.”

“Sylvanas Windrunner,” Jaina almost snarled, omitting any titles. “Why are we here?”

“Isn’t it obvious, oh mighty mage of the Alliance?” Sylvanas crooned, as she strutted close enough to stroke Jaina’s cheek with an immaterial finger. “This is a trap, and-”

“Yes,” Jaina interrupted. “I know it’s a trap. Get to the point, I have a very important ‘ruin your plans’ scheduled.”

Sylvanas stared imperiously at her captive, displeased at having been interrupted. “Good luck with that, little mage. This trap was designed for you.” She got back into the rhythm of her monologuing. “The pulses of unknown magic, to catch your interest and draw you here. That very same magic, to entrap and ensnare you, where you can do no harm to my plans. Even if you do find a way out - I know very well how resourceful you can be - it will be too late to save your precious capital. Kul Tiras will fall, and pave the way for my ascension!”

Jaina had read ahead in the script, and knew her part. “You’re insane, You’ll never get away with this, You’ll pay, etcetera etcetera.” She made a _get on with it_ motion with her hand.

The image of Sylvanas glared daggers at her. “How dare you!” she snarled.

“How dare I?” Jaina retorted, as sudden anger flared to life within. “I am Jaina Proudmoore. I’m going to break your little trap, then I’m going to break whatever operation you have planned and then-” Jaina stood tall, advanced on the apparition of Sylvanas one step at a time, and drove her back. “And then, I’m going to come for _you_ , and make you rue the day you thought to cross me! I am not so easily contained!” She twisted her hand and thrust it towards Sylvanas, and the Warchief disappeared, swallowed in arcane light.

Jaina sighed heavily, as she took deep breaths. “Right,” she said to Bluey. “Let’s see about finding a way out of here, so we can do all those things I just said.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Petranaze and the Onyx Repository are introduced in [The Midnight Vault.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17926523)


	8. Chapter 8

Thrall had only fallen off his borrowed horse no more than half a dozen times by the time he reached Stormsong Valley. While the spirits were useful for following where Jaina had gone earlier that day, they were of somewhat lesser help staying in the saddle than he could have hoped.

It was late afternoon, the sun well on its way down, by the time he made it to the Howling Isles. Leaving his mount with a local to look after until his return, he had water-walked over to the small islands - mere hunks of jagged rock tearing into the sky, by his estimation. 

He still wasn’t sure what had brought Jaina out here. He’d hoped to run into her, on her way back, fashionably late. No such luck. The trail had led to a small cave entrance, and there was no indication that she’d come _out_ of it at all.

She was down there, somewhere, he was sure of it.

Thrall gathered his courage and entered the cave. At first, it was like any number of caves he’d seen before. Darker, perhaps, than Ragefire Chasm. After several twists and turns, however, he saw scribbles on the walls - overly complex, and written in power with a magical glow. It seemed to pulse, to his eyes, though he did not recognise the spellwork. It wasn’t related to the demonic summoning arts of Orc warlocks, nor shaman traditions, but he could say no more than that.

They did seem to pulse with power, though - increasingly so as he descended.

Eventually, he turned a corner, and almost ran into a magical barrier that shimmered black and red at him. He glanced around. There were no other pathways forward through the cave.

“Well, how am I supposed to deal with this?” he grumbled out loud.

“Thrall? Is that you?” He heard a familiar voice call out from the far side of the barrier.

“Jaina!” he cried out, as he looked for her. She moved toward him, until only the barrier separated them. “What happened?”

“I’ll explain later,” she said. “Right now I need to get out of here. There’s something about the magic permeating this place. I don’t… I don’t think I have much time.”

Thrall frowned. “Until what?”

Jaina shivered. “Until it kills me,” she said.

“Well then, let’s get you out of there!”

* * *

Easier said than done, Thrall thought to himself half an hour later.

The barrier had shrugged off everything Thrall had thrown at it, and everything Jaina had thrown at it before he’d arrived. The spirits had been as confounded about the magic involved as he and Jaina were. There was no obvious off switch, no convenient lever to pull, and no nearby cultists to interrogate. The barrier had remained unperturbed throughout.

“There _is_ an energy flow between the pillar in the centre of the cavern and the barrier,” Jaina said. “I’m sure of it. There’s fluctuations when _you_ assault the barrier, but not when I do.”

“Do you think it controls the barrier?” Thrall asked.

Jaina had shook her head. “No. Even if it did, I can’t find any mechanism or interface on the pillar for controlling anything.” She sighed, and shivered. “It’s getting cold, Thrall.”

Thrall didn’t want to think about that. The temperature, as far as he could tell, hadn’t changed. “You said the energy flow fluctuated when I attacked the barrier?”

“Yes, to varying extents.”

“What if it isn’t a control system?” Thrall thought out loud. “What if instead, it was topping up the barrier? Healing the damage as I damaged it?”

Jaina frowned in concentration. “I mean, a restorative flow in reflex to entropic decay in a force matrix… it’s _possible,_ I guess.”

“When I was attacking, which attack did the flow most strongly react to?”

“The nature magic based attacks- oh, of _course._ It’s shadowlands based, of course life energies oppose it best.” Jaina made an annoyed noise. “I should have realised sooner.”

“Shadowlands?” Thrall asked, his face scrunched up as he racked his memory.

“Later,” Jaina said as she shook her head. “We might be able to bring this down. If you attack the barrier, triggering the repair flow…”

Thrall nodded with growing understanding. “Then you can try to disrupt the repair flow.” He frowned. “This seems too easy. Why place the pillar in there, with you, where you can disrupt it?”

“Oh, that’s because I can’t,” Jaina said. “I tried every bit of magic I have at my disposal on the central pillar, and it completely ignored me. Plus, the barrier shrugged off every attack I did without even a blip - I need you out there to attack it for me.”

Thrall frowned. “Then how will you interrupt the flow?”

Jaina flashed him a wicked grin. “Fools. Everyone thinks of me as an Archmage and forgets the rest of who I am.”

“And… that is?”

“I’m Jaina _fucking_ Proudmoore, and a proud daughter of Kul Tiras.” Jaina reached behind her back, under her cloak, and pulled out a gnomish-looking contraption the length of her forearm - to Thrall, it looked more like a cannon than anything else. “No-one ever expects an Archmage to have a gun.”

* * *

“Ready?” Thrall called.

“Ready,” Jaina replied. “Let’s do this.” She cocked her hand cannon, legs braced to take the kickback, and aimed at the pillar.

Thrall nodded, then summoned up the elemental spirits of nature once more. He drew on the strength of this place, and then beseeched their aid as he directed their slow, unstoppable force towards the barrier.

The barrier’s colours shifted and slid in response.

“Is it working?” Thrall called out, just as he heard an earth-shattering explosive noise from the cavern beyond. There was a sudden burst of light, then the barrier’s colours shifted more erratically, as its strength was no longer renewed. Then, at last, with a screech of systems failure, the barrier dropped.

Thrall dismissed the spirits of his assault with hasty appreciation, and rushed toward the barrier, just as Jaina stumbled through it and fell into his arms, exhausted.

“Thank you, Thrall,” Jaina whispered. “Get me out of this cave, please.”

Thrall used his shoulder to prop her up, and together, they made their way skyward.

* * *

Jaina’s energy levels had returned somewhat as they left the cave behind.

“Thank you for coming for me, for helping me escape,” she said.

They had found the small boat Jaina had used to reach the island in the first place. Thrall was rowing them clumsily back to Stormsong Valley. “It’s what we do for each other,” Thrall said. “What happened?”

Jaina shivered in a way that had nothing to do with the nighttime air. “It was a trap,” she said. “Sylvanas turned up to gloat.”

Thrall startled. “Sylvanas!?”

Jaina nodded. “Yes. She was trying to contain me. She said she was going to attack Kul Tiras."

“We’d better get back quickly, then. What kind of magic was that barrier? I hadn’t seen its like before.” Thrall tried to row them more quickly towards the shoreline.

“Shadowlands magic,” Jaina said. “I am reliably informed that it was magic of the Shadowlands she used.”

“You’ve _seen_ this sort of thing before?”

“Not before today.”

“How did she gain access to this magic? I’ve never heard of anyone coming back from the Shadowlands, let alone with new powers.”

Jaina shrugged. “This is all new to me too, I’m afraid. I fear we will all have cause to wonder about these questions soon enough.” The boat jerked to a halt as Thrall ran aground on the beach.

“Sorry,” Thrall said, as he helped her out of the boat. “If an attack is imminent, we should get back as soon as possible. Will you be able to open us a portal soon?”

Jaina nodded. “I’m feeling much better, now that we’re away from the Howling Isles. Give me a minute, and I should be able to bring us back to Boralus.”

Thrall nodded. “You should know I had a visitor earlier today.”

Jaina smiled. “Was she attractive? Should I be jealous?”

Thrall snorted. “It was Saurfang.”

“Oooh, that nose ring.” Jaina held the back of her hand to her forehead. “I’m swooning.” Thrall mock-glared at her, and she laughed. “What did Saurfang want?”

“He warned me that Sylvanas was planning something.” He paused before continuing. “He wanted me to lead them against her.”

Jaina nodded, thoughtful for a moment. “ _Will_ you lead them?”

Thrall sighed. “We talked about this just last night. I haven’t had a lot of time for thinking since then. I don’t know, Jaina. My decisions…”

Jaina reached towards him, took his hands in hers. “Your decisions today have been exemplary,” she noted.

Thrall thought about that for a minute, letting his fingers rub against her hands.

“Come on,” Jaina finally said. “I think we should be good for a portal now. If we’re lucky, she hasn’t started her attack yet.”

Thrall nodded in agreement. There would be time for more thinking later.

Jaina threw her hand out in a circular motion, and a portal opened. “After you,” she said.

Thrall stepped through, Jaina hot on his heels.


	9. Chapter 9

When they stepped out of Proudmoore Keep’s portal room, men and women were already running about preparing the defenses.

“Has it begun yet?” Thrall asked.

Jaina shook her head. “No cannonfire. You’d know if we’d engaged the enemy from the noise.” She looked about, and found Cyrus across the room. She set off briskly towards him.

“I don’t care if they’re off-shift, you get them back on duty, whatever it takes,” he instructed Taelia as they approached. The young woman had sighted Jaina and Thrall as they neared, and broke into a relieved grin. “Damn good to see you, Lord Admiral,” she said as she ran off to perform her orders.

“Cyrus,” Jaina said in acknowledgement. “Report.”

Cyrus turned to her. “Scouting patrols reported a naval fleet circling around us counter-clockwise from the west in the early afternoon. No response to signal flags. No visible crew either, which is damned odd.” Cyrus scratched his beard. “It looks like their intention is to assault us here, whoever they are. Estimates are they’ll arrive in an hour. Standard preparations for battle are underway.”

“I need to warn my Earthen Ring brothers and sisters,” Thrall said.

“No need,” Cyrus said. “I had Taelia run over when we first got word from the scouts to let them know. They said they’d do what they could to assist in the defense.”

Thrall smiled. The Earthen Ring were good people, and not without some tricks up their sleeves.

Well, they didn’t really _have_ sleeves, but still.

“This attack is being orchestrated by Sylvanas,” Jaina informed Cyrus. “So this is an assault by the Horde on us.”

Thrall bristled. “Jaina, you can’t hold all of us-”

Jaina waved her hand in a stalling motion “I’m not looking to blame. I’m judging resource allocation. Most of the Horde’s naval power was lost over Nazjatar. What little they still had, anyway. Hmmm.” She paused in thought. “You said you couldn’t see any crew on the ships. How many in the fleet?”

Cyrus frowned in thought. “Three destroyers, two battleships.”

Jaina tapped her cheek. “It could do some damage, certainly, but that’s not nearly the kind of fleet you’d need to seriously take us on.” She thought for another minute, then snapped her fingers. “It’s a deception.”

“A deception?” Thrall asked.

“Yes,” Jaina explained. “No crew. Too small a fleet. They let themselves get seen by our scouts hours before they were in position, and make it seem like they intend to attack at night. Send the word, Cyrus, we’re not going to be attacked in an hour. We’re going to be attacked any moment, and from the water line.”

Cyrus’ eyes widened, then he hastened off to obey.

Thrall looked around at the sudden burst of activity. “Jaina, what’s going on?” he asked.

“Sylvanas has alliances with Azshara,” Jaina said. “She’d tipped her hand in Nazjatar, with that scheme to take out the Alliance fleet.”

“What does that have to do with crewless boats?”

“They’re a distraction. They’re there to make us think the attack is coming at a certain time, in a certain way. No crew, because it would be a waste to lose them. A small team of naga - smaller than a full ship’s crew, certainly - could _push_ those ships from below the waterline, then join up with the actual assault force after the deception has served its purpose.”

“So… the attack…”

Jaina nodded as Thrall got it. “Will most likely be a naga force, attacking from the beachfront, well within our defensive line.

From outside, the too-familiar sounds of combat sounded.

“So it begins,” Thrall said.

“To arms!” Jaina cried.

* * *

Out on the Seawall, Stormcaller Mylra looked out to where the approaching fleet would be. “I ‘ave a bad feeling about this,” she said.

From across the ocean behind her, she heard a cacophony of noise, softened only by the distance. She turned, trying to see through the twilight, and gasped.

From the look of it, Boralus was already under assault.

“Look lively!” she called out, as she pointed towards the distant harbour wall. “Th’ attack’s already begun!” At this distance it was difficult to tell, but it _looked_ like the enemy was coming out of the water, climbing up onto the docks along the harbour wall.

“Naga!” she cried. “Aim for th’ shallows!”

“Stormcaller,” one of the newer shaman called out to her. “There aren’t any shallows, the harbour wall cuts across an-”

Mylra glared daggers at the man. “Aim for th’ water just in front of th’ harbour wall docks!” she yelled. “Are ye ‘appy now?”

The shaman hustled back to his post. Mylra turned to beseeching her spirits of lightning to aid her task, as from across the length of the Seawall, fireballs and shards of ice began to catapult towards Boralus.

* * *

Jaina had dashed deeper in the keep briefly, in search of a specific staff. This one was slender and chill to the touch, with a spinning ball of ice at the top, cradled by jagged carvings that looked almost crystalline. She felt a familiar tingle of power surge through her fingers as she took it, then ran out into the streets of Boralus.

With a twist of her wrist and a little will, she summoned Bluey. The water elemental appeared beside her. “We need to reach the Tradewinds Market,” she said tersely.

“Got it,” Bluey burbled, and bagan to zig-zag behind her, keeping an eye out for trouble.

As she moved through Unity Square, she saw the common folk peering out from windows and from behind doors. “Stay inside,” she called out. “The city is under attack, and the streets are dangerous. We will keep you safe!”

She hoped she wasn’t lying to them.

* * *

Cyrus ran across the top of the Harbour wall. “Get those cannons pointing keelward!” he shouted. The naga were down at sea level, attempting to climb up onto the docks along the entire length of the wall. His hands were full just trying to keep them back; in the back of his mind, he hoped they weren’t attacking elsewhere. He simply didn’t have any manpower left to spare.

“Alternate fire, lads!” he yelled at a cannon crew who had fallen out of tempo. You fired every odd cannon, while the evens reloaded, then swapped. That was how you kept the pressure on without blowing up your own artillery.

Of course, it also helped that every kind of elemental force was raining down on the naga from the Seawall behind them. Despite that, the naga’s numbers were seemingly endless. They just kept coming.

He glanced around. Where the hell was Taelia?

* * *

Thrall had left the Keep when Jaina had gone to fetch a new staff - “Go on, I’ll catch up,” she’d said - unsure of what he could contribute to the defense. People were rushing to and fro, and seemed to have things well in hand here.

He decided he’d head towards the Seawall, and see if anything needed doing on the way.

With a pair of spectral wolves summoned to fight at his side, he’d made it onto Mariner’s Row, where the crowds had thickened - the throng of people were trying to press towards the city centre, away from the city gate on the coastline.

From here, he couldn’t see what people were running from. He’d have to get closer.

* * *

Taelia spun, her hammer whirling around her and bashing three attacking Naga to the ground before her inertia was spent. She was down on the ground level of the Harbour wall, running from dock to dock, doing her best to help the guardsmen hold the line against those that survived the cannon fire.

She dashed to the next dock, and brought her hammer down on a Naga soldier there from above, then used the momentum to flip over him and into the throng of guards being advanced upon. “For Kul Tiras!” she cried, as she pulled up her hammer, ready to swing again, the guards rallied by her arrival.

The group of Naga hissed, and charged toward her and the guardsmen.

Taelia smiled, and swung once more.

* * *

Thrall had reached the city gates, the flow of panicked people thinning as he approached, and saw why they had run.

The Naga had gathered outside the gates in large numbers, and each was carrying on their backs a massive, oversized explosive.

“Ashvane bombs,” Thrall said to himself. He’d heard the tale of how the Ashvane Trading Company had been producing explosives, before they’d betrayed Kul Tiras. “I guess this is where you threw in your lot.”

Thrall looked around. There were no civilians milling about, no guardsmen here to fight. Someone would have to stop these bombs.

Thrall sighed. "I guess it’s got to be us,” he said to his spirit wolves, who padded in a circle around him. There was an awful lot of them, however.

He took some deep breaths to calm himself, and called out to the spirits of fire. He needed a great boon, for a great boom.

* * *

Jaina arrived at Tradewinds Market, Bluey in tow, to find that the Naga had managed to swarm the lower floor of the marketplace.

“I need to reach the dock,” Jaina thought out loud. “Bluey, can you protect me?”

“Of course!” her water elemental said, and moved around her, containing her form entirely within his liquid self. Acting as a shield, he would guard her, protect her from attack. Of course, she was still able to breathe - they’d figured that trick out years ago.

Jaina began to channel her powers, and a great ice storm formed over the lower floors of the marketplace. Naga began to cry out as her blizzard began to pelt the gathered troops with great force. A few of the Naga close enough to try it moved to attack her, but Bluey deflected their strikes with his own body, and hit them with water bolts of such force they were knocked back into the blizzard’s storm.

Jaina gritted her teeth, and kept channeling, until all the Naga in the marketplace were dealt with.

* * *

Thrall was nearly out of time. The Naga were preparing to enter Boralus.

At last, he had found a suitable spirit of fire that had answered his call. It had materialised from thin air beside the Farseer, and listened to his instructions with smouldering amusement.

 _This will be fun_ , was the sense he got from the spirit.

 _Now, go,_ he commanded.

The fire spirit broke into a gathering of dozens of smaller kindled gouts of flame, and then as one launched themselves, as if thrown by a catapult, up and over the city gates.

On the far side, Thrall knew, they were seeking out the explosive packages of the gathered Naga. Finding their fuses. Setting them alight.

The sudden sound and force of every Ashvane bomb over the wall detonating at once knocked Thrall off his feet.

* * *

Jaina reached the docks, just in time to hear an earth-shattering explosion to the south. She looked over towards Mariner’s Row.

Even from this angle, she could see that the city gates were in ruins. She could see her guards fighting for their lives the length of the Harbour wall. She needed to end this, now.

Jaina raised her staff high in one hand, and began to chant. She gathered her will and her power, and she channeled it through her staff. She gave her spellwork structure, purpose, force. The echoes of her dying blizzard picked up around her, whipped her hair around and tugged at her cloak. As she stabbed her staff down towards the ocean, she released her spell.

The ocean before her froze, in a wave of force that spilled outward.

The ocean froze up along the Harbour wall, preventing Naga from coming up through it, and catching some stuck halfway through rising up. It pushed through the canals of Boralus, freezing the ocean across the entire city. Ships were locked in place, but the Naga could no longer approach her city, her people.

Jaina took a deep breath, her spellwork done, and looked around Boralus.

It was over. The battle was won.


	10. Chapter 10

Jaina had gone to Mariner’s Row to inspect the damage, and found Thrall treating some injured.

“What happened here?” she asked him, then noticed that he, too, was bleeding from cuts on his arms. “Oh. Hold on.” She took some of the first aid supplies, and tended to his wounds.

Thrall kept still for her as she examined his arm up close. “The Naga were gathered here in force, armed with explosives. Bombs, from Ashvane, I think.” He made a face as Jaina applied antiseptic that stung. “I stopped them the only way I could.”

“By blowing up the city wall?” Jaina asked, wryly amused.

Thrall shrugged, and Jaina made a disapproving noise as his arms shifted. “It needed a repaint anyway,” he said, and she laughed.

“Thank you for defending my city,” she said, as she finished up with a bandage. “There. Nearly good as new.”

Thrall nodded, as civilians began to trickle into take over the aid efforts. “So. Sylvanas meant to end us here,” he said.

“Yes, I do think so,” Jaina said. “Let’s get back to the Keep, and discuss it there?”

Thrall nodded. “I’ve done what I can here. It’s time for the next step.”

* * *

“I don’t believe this is the extent of her plans,” Thrall said. “As large-scale an assault as this was, I don’t see the sense in it as an isolated attack.”

“I agree,” Jaina said. “I believe she meant to remove Kul Tiras as a whole, and perhaps myself in particular, from the field of play as part of a greater gambit.”

“That trap _was_ for you specifically,” Thrall reminded her.

“Yes,” Jaina allowed, “but I am not certain whether that was merely to prevent me from acting in the defense of Kul Tiras, or also to keep me out of her next move.”

“Does it matter?” Thrall asked. “You’re removed for both options, either way.”

Jaina considered for a moment. “You may be right, at that,” she said.

“She’s up to something,” Thrall insisted. “Saurfang came to warn me of as much.”

“Something needs to be done, Thrall,” Jaina said. “I don’t mean to pressure you, but what we talked about last night-”

Thrall held up a hand to forestall her. “I’ve had enough time to think,” he said.

“And?” Jaina asked, a mix of fear and hope in her eyes.

“And I still think I made mistakes. More than I should have. But you were right-” He gives her a look, as Jaina’s expression turned prideful. “Yes, yes, you were right, damn you, that I was always trying my best to do what was right. And, there’s another factor to consider.”

“And that is?” Jaina asked.

“Look at the decisions being made in my stead,” Thrall said. “Garrosh led us to war. Sylvanas leads us to destruction. Whatever choices I might make in their stead, I do not believe them to possibly be any _worse_ than what we already have.”

Jaina smiled, and it was like the sun coming out from behind storm clouds. “It’s good to have you back, Thrall,” she said.

Thrall curled an arm around her, and pulled her into a tight hug. “I should have made time to see you long ago,” he said.

“What’s done is done,” she said into his shoulder. “We’re here now.” She pulled back from his arms. “And I believe we have an attack of our own to plan.

Thrall nodded. It was time to deal with the current Warchief, for the good of all.

* * *

Sylvanas Windrunner, Warchief of the Horde, sat alone, redolent, upon the throne within Grommash Hold as Nathanos Blightcaller entered, bad news in tow.

“I have unfortunate news, my Queen,” he said, voice sorrowful.

“Tell me, Nathanos,” Sylvanas commanded.

“The Naga forces have failed to take Kul Tiras, my Dark Lady.” He could not meet her eyes.

Sylvanas hissed, and then swore in Thalassian for a whole minute. Nathanos could follow most of it, having learnt the more useful terms during his stint as a Farstrider an entire lifetime ago. He patiently waited out her tirade.

“It is of little consequence,” Sylvanas finally said, though he thrilled at the dangerous edge in her tone. “Kul Tiras was a secondary goal. The far greater prize is the removal of Jaina Proudmoore from-”

“Your pardon, my Dark Lady,” Nathanos said. She hated being interrupted, he knew, but she hated being allowed to look misinformed more.

Her eyes were glowing daggers in the gloom. “What. Is. It,” she snarled.

Nathanos swallowed. Oh, he wasn’t going to get rewarded for _this_ news.

* * *

It was late morning the next day. Boralus bustled as people moved about to repair the city’s damage, to heal the injured, to bury those who had died in service to protect Kul Tiras. Jaina had consulted with Cyrus, and Thrall had confirmed with Mylra that his shamans had made it through the battle without any casualties.

They had come up with, if not a plan outright, some first steps with which to start. Thrall would need allies, forces with which to push Sylvanas into a corner. He hoped Saurfang would have fighters, and Jaina had pointed him in an unexpected direction - the new Night Elf home of Aludrassil, towering atop Lordamere Lake. He would visit both, and see what kind of army he could possibly throw together.

Jaina took on the task of investigating this new magic Sylvanas had used. Clearly, she’d planned for Jaina to be dead, so had not hidden her new, secret power. If Thrall were to press her hard enough, she was sure that the banshee would resort to its use against him. They needed a way to counter her novel abilities, and she would find it.

By the time everything had been arranged and seen to, and a messenger sent to inform King Anduin of the attack on an Alliance city, the sun was dipping into the far horizon.

Jaina had brought Thrall back to the upper levels of the Keep. “Come with me,” she’d said. “I have something to show you.”

Thrall had followed, resisting the urge to tell her he’d already seen her naked two nights ago. But when they reached the doors to her rooms, Jaina led them past them, around another corner and into what looked like a small armory to Thrall’s eyes.

“I was hoping you’d choose the path you have, Thrall. I had a gift made for you, against the possibility.” She gestured further in, and Thrall walked ahead, until he found a large wooden chest. An old symbol of Durotar was etched into the lid. “Jaina, what is this?” he asked.

“Open it,” she said quietly.

Inside, Thrall found a brightly polished set of black and gold armour, fashioned after that he had worn, long ago. Back in the days when he’d just settled Durotar, and Jaina was the ruler of a small coastal colony called Theramore. It reminded him of those times, of those better days, of the clarity he’d felt in doing what was right. That, he hoped, he just might be finding again.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispered.

Jaina gestured at an ornate handle, poking out from the padding around the armour. “Pull it out,” she encouraged him.

He took the handle in his grip. It was heavy, so he readjusted his grip and pulled harder. It relented, and slid out smoothly.

Thrall gasped as he examined the weapon. It was Doomhammer.

“It’s a recreation,” Jaina hastened to explain at the reverent look on Thrall’s face. “As best as we could manage. I went through five blacksmiths to find one who could forge it right."

“It _is_ Doomhammer, or will be,” Thrall said. “The magic was always in the one who wielded it, not the hammer itself.”

“Well, there might be a _little_ magic in this one,” Jaina admitted, holding up her fingers an inch apart. “A tiny bit. Imbuing metal isn’t my forte, but I did what I could.”

Thrall looked at the armour, bright and full of lustre. He hefted Doomhammer, and its weight felt like a welcome home. He looked at Jaina, and found tears welling in his eyes blurring his sight. “Thank you,” he said. “Jaina, my love.”

“Thrall,” she whispered, tears in her eyes as well. “My heart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The creation of Aludrassil is detailed in _[A Laurel of Emerald Bronze.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16645229)_


	11. Chapter 11

Thrall had woken first the next morning, Jaina’s naked body pressed up against his, and he’d reluctantly rolled out of bed. They had work to do.

He’d gotten dressed while Jaina slept in, then put on the armour she’d made for him. It looked good - and he looked even better in it. He felt a decade younger, when he’d looked in the mirror.

He heard a low whistle from behind him, and turned to find Jaina sitting up in the bed. “Hey handsome,” she said. “Come here often?”

Thrall walked over to her, and kissed her forehead. “When this is over, I’ll come here as often as you’d like,” he promised.

Jaina laughed. “I’ll hold you to that.” She crawled out of the bed - a lot more gracefully than Thrall had, he had to admit - and set about dressing for her day. “We’ll meet back here, in two days’ time?” she asked.

Thrall nodded. “We should have some ideas of our next steps by then,” he said.

* * *

Once Thrall had left, Jaina had gone downstairs to get City business off her plate, so she would have time free for study.

Recovery from the attack was proceeding well, and the people of Kul Tiras had matters well in hand - all she needed to do was sign off on some resource releases and civil repair works, mostly. She found herself more content with the work than she had of late, however - thoughts of the failures of Theramore, of the loss of people, were less present, and she found them less affecting than they had been in the past.

She was forced to admit that having Thrall back in her life, having him hopeful and working to change the world for the better, was having more beneficial effects than simply ‘getting frequently laid extremely well’.

Not to knock the positive effects of spending half the night wrapped around each other, of course.

Still, if she could only find a way to deal with this new magic, things were looking up - and even with that, well. She did like to study, as part of a balanced life.

With her city administration tasks done by late morning, she’d popped back to the Onyx Repository, this time with a more in-depth list of research topics for Petranaze. She’d spent the rest of that afternoon and evening in a research alcove, pouring through musty arcane tomes and forbidden lorebooks. Petra had popped by every hour or so, bringing a new mug of tea or hot chocolate to replace the one growing cold by her side.

She hadn’t enjoyed a study session so much in years.

She’d followed scant leads into tomes that had new, more promising leads, and from them on to long forgotten compendiums of deliberately suppressed lore. It seemed that, by and large, information really did not flow out of the Shadowlands, only in.

Except for the final, small pile of books Petra had brought, from so deep in the restricted sections of this very restricted library, that nigh no one knew they had ever existed, if not for the singular, catalogued copies in this very Repository.

Jaina read on into the night, and at last, found a link she could pin down.

The Shadowlands, apparently, had some tenuous, ill-defined connection to the Lich King.

She could chase that down in the morning.

* * *

Thrall had arrived at the base of Aludrassil, apparent new World Tree, and replacement home for the greater body of the displaced Night Elf people. He approached the chamber that would teleport him up to the village proper with some trepidation, unsure of the welcome he would receive.

To his relief, those standing guard did not attempt to stop him or harass him as he entered, and got his first proper look at Aludrassil.

It was lush, was the first impression he had. Green and purple fauna grew everywhere, and the homes were made of patterned lumber. The paths were all curves and gentle slopes, as he made his way towards the large council building, where he had a meeting with a member of the council who ruled here - Nozari, her name was.

When he reached the council building, Thrall was directed to a waiting room, and wait he most certainly did. It was more than an hour later when a silver haired elf beckoned him over to an office.

“Hello,” she said. “I am Nozari.”

“Good day, Councillor Nozari. I am Thrall.”

“Yes, you are,” Nozari said with a smile. “Please, sit.” She herself sat on the other side of a fairly clean desk. “Now, tell me, what can Aludrassil do for you, in this time and place?”

“It’s a bit of a story,” he warned her.

“We have time,” Nozari said with an expansive wave of her hand.

“Alright,” Thrall said, then went into everything that had happened. Nozari listened with rapt attention.

“That’s quite a story,” Nozari said as he caught up to the present.. “It seems getting laid has done wonders for clearing your head.”

“I.. what?” Thrall hadn’t mentioned anything about his rekindled relationship with Jaina.

“It’s obvious,” Nozari said. “You’ve been mooning over that mortal mage for a decade-”

“I have  _ not _ been moon-”

“- but it looks like you’ve finally let go of the past. Good on you.”

Thrall rolled his eyes, and gave up. “Anyway,” he said, as he forced the conversation back on track, “Now we come to the present. I am here, seeking any materiel aid that can be spared. I am aware that the Night Elf people have lost much, and there is not much to give. But any help at all will be valuable, and…” Thrall shrugged. “I do offer an opportunity for vengeance against Sylvanas. An opportunity to be part of a mission to take her down, once and for all.”

Nozari watched Thrall, thoughtful. “This would result in a power vacuum in the Horde hierarchy.” Her gaze flickered for a moment, and seemed to Thrall as if she were somehow looking elsewhere, a dozen different places all at once. “Timelines shift. Most are favorable,” she said as if to herself.

“Councillor, are you alright?” Thrall asked as he frowned, concerned.

“I’m fine,” Nozari assured him. “I believe your proposal has merit. I will arrange for a volunteer cohort to be equipped and made available. Will two days from now be suitable?” she asked with a secret grin.

“It will,” Thrall said. That should be around the time he saw Jaina next. “Can they be sent to Kul Tiras? Once marshalled, we’ll go on to Durotar from there.”

“Of course.” Nozari folded her hands. “I will also arrange for several contingents from our Defensive Guard to be assigned to your command for this mission, if you can offer me something in trade.”

“Trade?” Thrall asked, confused. “I don’t know if I have anything to pay with.”

Nozari shook her head. “No, no, not payment. Trade. When the dust settles from all this, in exchange for our military assistance, I would appreciate it if you could see your way to officially recognising Aludrassil’s claim on Lordamere Lake and its immediate surrounds, and the Horde relinquishing any future claim on its territories.”

Thrall thought about this for several moments. It was true that technically, Lordamere Lake was considered to belong to the undead, and thus to Sylvanas and through her, to the Horde as a whole. But the Horde had not had any use for this island - and frankly, Aludrassil was doing more good for the Horde in this moment than Sylvanas ever had.

“Hang on a moment,” Thrall had realised something. “I don’t have the authority to negotiate that.”

Nozari smiled deeply. “Well. Let us say, if you ever find yourself in such a position, I would expect you to be as persuasive as you can in order to enact such a treaty. Is that fair?”

“I… believe so,” Thrall said. “I can agree to that.”

“Very well then,” Nozari said. “I will see they are delivered alongside the volunteer cohort. Is there any other business you have with Aludrassil, Warchief?”

“Farseer,” Thrall said automatically.

“My mistake. Farseer, then,” Nozari said.

“I believe that is all. I have much to do today.” He thought for a moment. “Unless you could arrange a portal to Razor Hill?”

Nozari smiled. “I believe we just might be able to do that.”

* * *

Jaina walked the lonely, cold stairs of Icecrown Citadel. It had been many long years since any living soul had walked this path - none since the defeat of the Lich King, of what little was left of Arthas Menethil, Crown Prince of Lordaeron, and once-boyfriend of a certain young mage.

Gods, she’d been so young then.

The tower was deserted. No undead ran amuck here. No experiments conducted in the labs. No bone dragons screeching for her to suffer as her pathetic magic betrayed her. Just the chill, and the stairs, and her footsteps echoing off the cold, cold walls.

She was one of a bare few who knew the secret of Icecrown. Oh, the Lich King had been defeated in combat, true. But that he had been replaced - that was knowledge kept extremely close. That Bolvar Fordragon had taken the title, to keep the Scourge in check - that there was  _ a _ Lich King, to this day - was kept closer still.

Soon enough - though it felt like she had been climbing all day - she reached the summit. The wind here was biting cold, though the view of the sky was unsurpassed, marred only by the final icy staircase, at the top of which sat the Frozen Throne itself.

Its occupant stood when he saw Jaina, and began to descend the stairs. Jaina stepped forward, so they would meet in the middle of the plateau.

“Lich King,” Jaina said.

“Lord Admiral,” the Lich King rumbled.

“Wait, how did you know that?

“I keep my hand in the affairs of the mundane world,” he said.

“Enough to know what’s going on with Sylvanas?” Jaina asked.

The Lich King shook his head. “I do not get involved with such matters,” he declared.

Jaina watched him closely. “She’s accessed the Shadowlands, Bolvar.”

Yes, he definitely reacted twice. Once to his name, and once to the mention of the Shadowlands.

“That is irrelevant to me,” he grated. 

“Like hell it is,” Jaina pressed him. “You’re the only entity on all of Azeroth who has any connection whatsoever to that place.”

“You do not know that,” the Lich King declared. “You could  _ not  _ know that.”

“I can, and I do. The position of Lich King places you in a position as a sort of guardian of the traversal between two states, between here and Azeroth. It wasn’t intended, but it happened, and we both know it.” She glared him down.

The Lich King looked away. “Fine,” he conceded. “I do not know  _ how _ you know these things, but you are not incorrect in your claims.” He looked at her again. “You say Sylvanas has accessed the Shadowlands?”

Jaina nodded. “She’s demonstrated use of magic that is of that realm. She used it to imprison me, to try to kill me. I believe she intends to use it against others in the near future, and I have no real means to counter it.”

The Lich King sounded grim. “Indeed. No one is in possession of such spellwork.”

“Except you,” Jaina hazarded.

“Except me,” the Lich King agreed.

“I’m sure you would agree she should not be allowed to wield such a thing in this realm,” Jaina argued. “What are your terms for providing me with the means to counter her?”

The Lich King looked at her steadily. Jaina held the gaze for a dozen heartbeats.

“Bolvar,  _ please, _ ” Jaina pleaded.

“Watch,” the Lich King said. He held a gauntleted hand up, and his fingers twitched. Jaina watched carefully, as she saw magic forces contort to a will. “You will need this spellwork to cast what you seek.” Black-red lines of force coalesced above his hand into a gridded sphere, spinning, growing, contracting - as if breathing.

Jaina took note of all the details of the spellwork. “I can’t reproduce this with my arcane arts,” she said.

“Not yet,” the Lich King said. “Do not resist.” With his other hand, he splayed his fingers and reached toward her. A torrent of energy poured out like a beam of light, and filled her head.

Jaina clenched her teeth, and tried her best not to scream.


	12. Chapter 12

A day later, Jaina and Thrall met in Proudmoore Keep.

“I have an army,” Thrall said. “Saurfang has agreed to throw his support - and his gathered forces - behind our plan.”

“And I saw Aludrassil’s contributions gathering out in Unity Square this morning,” Jaina noted. “It seems they were very generous, or you were very convincing.”

Thrall shrugged. “A little of both, perhaps.” He tried not to downplay his own skills. “How did your part go?”

Jaina shivered. “I have it,” she said. “A spell to surpass Sylvanas’ stolen magics. But, Thrall - I won’t be of much help to anyone else while I’m performing the spellwork. You can’t rely on my presence on the battlefield.”

Thrall reached over to rest a hand on her arm comfortingly. “We’ll be okay. We all have our parts.”  _ And it’s time I accepted mine, _ he thought to himself.

“Yes, it is time,” Jaina said.

Thrall startled. “How did- can you read-”  _ Can you tell what I’m thinking? _ he thought.

Jaina laughed. “No. I just know you, my heart.”

Thrall felt mildly embarrassed, and Jaina laughed again. This time she reached over to pat him comfortingly.

“We’ll be fine. We have a plan, and we have the righteous cause. We’ll be celebrating by this time tomorrow.” Jaina sounded like she believed it.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Thrall said.

* * *

Their forces gathered at Razor Hill.

Large portals, designed for moving armies, had been used to bring what forces Aludrassil and Kul Tiras could spare to the small town in Durotar. Saurfang had been waiting for them, with his army behind him.

“It’s good to see you, brother,” Saurfang said, clasping Thrall’s arm. “I almost thought you meant to back out of it.” He tilted his head at him. “Nice armour.  _ Nicer _ hammer.”

“I’m not backing out, Varok. Not today,” Thrall said, glancing towards Jaina. “Not anymore.”

“Thrall…” Saurfang’s voice dropped in volume, and he stepped close. “Are… things going to be alright here today?”

“Alright?” Thrall asked, confused.

“You know. With your ex here.”

Thrall glared at Saurfang. “Varok,” he said with a sigh. “Just… get back to work.”

Saurfang held up his hands. “Alright, alright. Don’t blame me if she takes your head off.”

* * *

Their forces marched towards Orgrimmar.

The city gates had changed again, Thrall noted. Even more crenellations and defensive spikes had been added, and the entire length was overrun with guards, at least three-deep. Every fifth one carried a horde banner.

They watched, as Thrall’s forces marched into position outside the gates, leaving an arena-sized gap in front of the gates themselves.

Jaina looked at Thrall. “Time for me to get to it,” she said. “I’ll be with the rearguard.” She pointed at the rear of their forces, still in line of sight. “Watch for the sky changing. That’ll be when I’ve neutralised her new magic.” She leant in and kissed him on the cheek. “Good luck, Thrall.” She turned and strode off, her part of the plan now in motion.

Saurfang watched her walk off. “She’s going to make someone  _ very _ happy someday,” he said.

Thrall ground his teeth. “Varok…” he said. “It’s time.”

Saurfang nodded. The two of them walked forward, ahead of their army, into the open area before the barred gate.

“Sylvanas Windrunner!” Thrall called out into the silence. “I challenge Mak’gora!”

The silence stretched on for minutes. At long last, the gate opened, and the standard bearers atop the gate’s battlements began to tap out a beat. Sylvanas, followed by Nathanos, strode out into the cleared field of battle.

“Why, look, Nathanos,” Sylvanas purred. “A pair of traitors, leading traitors.” She leaned towards Thrall. “Why should I accept your challenge?”

“Because,” Thrall said. “You want me out of the way. You want to see me suffer. You want me cast from the battlements as a sign to those who would turn on you, of the cost of betraying you.” It was not an argument that would persuade him personally, but it would appeal to her.

Sylvanas glared at him for a long moment, then turned to Nathanos. He held out a matched pair of wickedly curved daggers for her, and she took them. Nathanos retreated without a word back to the gate, where he stood, watching.

Saurfang looked at Thrall, then nodded. “It’s up to you now,” he said. 

“Keep her safe,” Thrall said, glancing towards where he knew Jaina was, unwilling to say her name where Sylvanas could hear.

Saurfang looked surprised for a moment, then nodded before he retreated back, leaving Thrall and Sylvanas alone on the field.

“You should have stayed gone, Farseer,” Sylvanas taunted him, as she circled around him, blades held high. “Your time has passed. You had your chance.”

“I was going to,” Thrall said, as he swung his hammer back and forth, testing its momentum. “But you kept hurting everyone I cared about.”

“Who?” Sylvanas sneered. “Your people, back there? They don’t care about you. They don’t care for your cause. I’m going to  _ destroy _ you, and everyone back there will  _ run _ to be welcomed back into the fold.”

“That’s where you’re wrong!” Thrall cried, and swung his hammer.

Sylvanas dodged with lightning reflexes, and slashed her blades across Thrall’s plate armor. They left reddish-black-purple trails of smoke in their path.

Thrall turned to her, and Sylvanas was in his face, slashing an attack toward him. He held Doomhammer high, and her blades bounced off.

“Am I wrong?” she taunted him. “Let’s pretend you have their loyalty. What will happen when I slay you, the leader who has brought them to this place?”

Thrall screamed, and swung his hammer once, twice, thrice, and pushed Sylvanas back. She lashed out after the third swing, working the blades into the places where his armour fit together. He heard the sound of snapping metal, and the fasteners on his shoulderguards went flying, followed by the armour itself. His shoulders, and some of his upper arms, were now vulnerable.

They circled each other once more. “If I fall,” Thrall said, “another will pick up Doomhammer, and take my place.”

Sylvanas’ eyes flashed in anger. “You’re wrong!” she snarled, and lashed out. Thrall tried to block her assault, but he was a hair too slow; Sylvanas’ enchanted blades found his shoulder and scored two deep cuts. He cried out in sudden, flaring pain, and stumbled to his knees.

Thrall looked at the sky.

* * *

Jaina had found the quietest patch of rock she could safely use out here, and instructed a nearby Aludrassil guard to to prevent anyone from distracting her, no matter what. The Night Elf had nodded, grabbed another guard, and they had together assumed a watch position.

Jaina took a deep breath, and thought back to - Gods, was it only yesterday? - when the Lich King - when Bolvar - had given her what she needed. A connection of her own. A foundation on which to build her own Shadowlands-based spellwork.

She reached for it mentally, and felt the shuddering as her essence rebelled at its touch. This wasn’t a natural thing. She concentrated, bringing her will to bear, and forced the connection open, forced it to stabilise so she could do what she needed to do.

Once she was sure she had the connection secured, she recalled the spellwork she had seen performed, that she’d been instructed to remember. An anti-magic shell, of sorts. One attuned specifically for the magic of the realm it was sourced from.

She concentrated with all her will, banished any fears for Thrall - she had to do her part, no time to worry now - and began to chant, bringing the anti-magic shell into place over all of Orgrimmar. Over both armies.

The effort was monumental. She shook from the strain. But, piece by piece, she built that shell. She fenced them in.

Now she just had to maintain it.

* * *

Thrall looked at the sky, and he saw streaks of red and black as they began to run across the sky, as they flickered in and out.

Sylvanas circled him, never letting her eyes off him. “Death comes, old shaman,” she crooned. “And all the hopes of those who followed you will die with you.”

Thrall looked back at her, and climbed back onto his feet. “You cannot kill hope,” he whispered.

“What?” Sylvanas asked, wary.

“You  _ cannot kill hope, _ ” Thrall declared, louder, and swung Doomhammer at her again. He ignored how the muscles of his arms screamed at the strain. “You tried at Teldrassil!” Another swing. “You failed!” He swung, and Sylvanas dodged beneath, but was driven further back.

“Hope  _ remains, _ ” Thrall cried, and this time she deflected his swing with her blades - though he noted they no longer bled multicoloured smoke. “You set us to kill each other at Lordaeron!” He swung, but hit the ground, throwing dirt into her face. “You failed!”

Sylvanas looked panicked now, as Thrall kept advancing. She tried to parry, but Thrall had a hammer. 

“Here we stand!” Thrall yelled. “You!”  _ Swing _ . “Just!”  _ Swing _ . “Keep!”  _ Swing _ . “Failing!”

Sylvanas had fallen onto her back, scrabbling backwards from the enraged Thrall.

“The Horde is not your plaything,” he snarled. Another swing, and this time he knocked her blades from her hands. “The Horde will  _ endure. _ ” His swing connected with her breastplate, and it beat her into the ground. “The Horde is  _ strong! _ ”

“The Horde is  _ NOTHING! _ ” Sylvanas shouted, and the force of her wail pushed Thrall back half a step, and he stopped swinging Doomhammer.

Sylvanas pulled herself to her feet, and looked around. Everyone was staring at her, even those of her own forces on the battlements. They had obviously heard her. She laughed, loud and spitefully.

“You are  _ all NOTHING!”  _ she screeched, and thrust her arms out toward Thrall.

Nothing happened.

She thrust out her arms again. Still nothing.

Thrall risked a glance upwards, where the sky still looked wrong.  _ Thank you, Jaina, _ he thought. He pulled Doomhammer up, across the back of his shoulders.

Sylvanas’ head whipped around, as she looked at everyone who had gathered. “If you could see yourselves as I see you,” she sneered, loud enough to be heard by all. “Toy soldiers, in tin plate. Beasts who howl for honor, standing as one.” Her voice dripped with curdled scorn. “Savour it. Nothing lasts.”

Sylvanas turned to smoke - her banshee form - took flight, and flew off over the horizon.

Well, she tried to. Instead, she bounced off the barely-visible barrier of Jaina’s anti-magic shell, and ricocheted into the ground. The smoke tried again, and again. Sylvanas ping-ponged back and forth as she attempted to escape.

Thrall stared at the smoke trail in stunned amazement. They hadn’t expected this! “Varok!” he cried out. “Find me a phylactery! Quick!” It could be modified, he knew, to ensnare a banshee. The trick was keeping them from escaping before you could engage the trap - and it looks like Jaina had somehow discovered how.

Before him, the standard-bearers of Orgrimmar thumped out a beat for him, while behind him, the forces he’d gathered let out a might roar.

They’d done it.

They’d won.

Sylvanas Windrunner was defeated.

He was Warchief.


	13. Chapter 13

It had been a busy week for them all, in the aftermath of the Mak’gora. They had ensnared Sylvanas, no longer able to escape or possess another - or even to hit anyone - entrapped in her banshee form. She would face justice for her crimes, it had been decided - what justice could be found for her monstrous acts, in any case.

Steering the Horde back on course was a monumental task. First, he’d sent an ambassador to make a peace offering to the Alliance. A truce, while negotiations could be made for something more permanent. He’d had to hunt down and lock up the few who had truly supported Sylvanas, who would try to free her given the opportunity. With a laugh, he’d found himself in the position to guarantee Aludrassil’s sovereignty over its land, just as Nozari has asked. He’d had to begin the long process of ramping down the Horde’s war engine, redirecting the economies towards rebuilding and growth. He’d had to meet so many people, most of whom wanted something from him.

What he had not found was much time at all to spend with Jaina. He knew she’d been keeping busy, interrogating Sylvanas for details about what she’d been trying to do. Digging out secret missions she’d authorised and left no record of, so they could be recalled.

The most surprising thing for Thrall, though, was that he found a certain effortlessness to the process. He was asked to make decisions, and he made them as best he could. He wasn’t doubting himself. He knew he was on the side of good, performing as best he could. Already, in the streets of Orgrimmar, he could see the positive influence he was having - he could see children playing.

They hadn’t done that under Sylvanas’ rule.

Thrall smiled, and set off in search of Jaina, now that he finally had some spare time.

* * *

He found her in the dungeons, in a comfortable chair, in front of Sylvanas’ prison cell.

“She’s very stubborn,” Jaina said when she heard Thrall approach. “Pulling details from her is like pulling teeth, but less rewarding. All she wants to do is rant about hope.”

Thrall nodded, and crossed his arms over his chest. “She did seem a little obsessed with the idea of killing hope,” he said.

“It will be your downfall yet,” Sylvanas whispered from her cage. “Hope fails. We are, all of us, cursed. Life is suffering, an endless torment to which we are enslaved. You will beg for me to save you from it ere long. Existence is a prison.”

Thrall raised an eyebrow. “Has it been like this the whole time?”

Jaina nodded wearily. “Mostly,” she said.

Thrall turned to the caged banshee. “You forgot something, Sylvanas,” he said.

The banshee ignored him for a long moment before she spoke. “I forget _nothing_ , shaman.”

“You forgot,” Thrall said. “That suffering and torment is nothing new. I wish it wasn’t, but it is. We strive constantly against injustice, intolerance, and world-ending dangers. We rally against and contain existential threats. We struggle every day with our inner demons, taunting us, tormenting us.” He glanced at Jaina fondly. “Telling us that we are useless, that we make poor decisions, that we’re screwing everything up.” He looked back at Sylvanas. “But that’s the thing, about all of us - us Orcs in particular, but _all of us_ \- that I don’t think you, Sylvanas, ever understood.” Thrall stepped closer to the cage. He felt Sylvanas’ gaze focus on him, razor-sharp.

“We’ve had a _lot_ of practise at fighting demons.”

* * *

The next day, Jaina had left, as Kul Tiras had need of its Lord Admiral. Thrall couldn’t complain - he was keenly aware of much time running Orgrimmar and the Horde were taking from his days once more. It was different from the last time he had led, but in other ways it was exactly the same.

He had, at least, seen Jaina off. He’d snatched some time away, and only Saurfang had followed, just in time to see the Archmage portal out.

“You’re going to make your girlfriend jealous, with how you’re spending your spare time around Jaina,” Saurfang had said, and Thrall hadn’t even bothered to correct him. It was _definitely_ a lost cause.

Renovation work had been needed for Grommash Hold, as Sylvanas has made some changes that were rather incompatible with the living. There had also been the sex dungeon, as Nathanos had referred to it during his interrogation, which the ex-bodyguard had relished in describing in lurid detail what he and the former warchief would have done in there had there only been the opportunity, to anyone with the misfortune of being in earshot. Thrall still didn’t know what to do with him, but he knew it wasn’t going to be what Sylvanas had. The room was being dismantled. Possibly put to the flame, just in case.

It was weeks more before he had quarters within the Hold suitable for his needs. Saurfang had nearly instigated a riot over how long it had taken, as he had been upset at trying to secure “the Warchief’s flimsy tent out front,” as he’d called it.

Thrall had also divested himself of leadership of the Earthen Ring. He simply didn’t have the time anymore, and he didn’t want to do the role a disservice. Stormcaller Mylra had, by all accounts, slid seamlessly into the leadership position, and the shaman of the Earthen Ring were as busy as ever, calming spirits, healing Silithus, and helping people wherever Sylvanas had caused upheaval.

The Alliance ambassador had arrived. They had accepted the truce offer, and invited Thrall to a peace summit, to be held in a place to be determined, at a time to be determined, etcetera etcetera. Peace, which so often had seemed hard to keep, felt so easy to him at this moment, when one was simply willing to try.

Still, more weeks passed, and though his quarters were very nice, he still missed the warmth of sharing them.

* * *

Jaina had taken three steps back into Proudmoore Keep before she was assaulted with paperwork.

“All this needs signing,” Cyrus has said, brandishing the wad of papers as if it were a sword. Behind him, Taelia seemed to be greatly amused.

“Yes, hello, lovely to see you too,” Jaina snarked at him. “We won, by the way. Defeated the Warchief of the Horde, ended the war - thanks for asking.”

“Yes, yes, good show and all that, but now there’s _important_ work to be done,” Cyrus said. “The fishing guild is pushing for reparations for loss of income due to the freezing of the ocean, the high court has a backlog of cases for your review, and _someone_ has been rabble-rousing, trying to censure you for, and I quote, ‘allowing an orc to bring down Boralus’ impregnable walls’.”

Jaina rolled her eyes. “Thrall should have let them blow up all of Mariner’s Row, clearly.”

Taelia giggled. Jaina sighed. “Alright,” she said, as she capitulated. She’d known there would be work waiting for her. “Let’s get on with it.”

* * *

Two weeks later, Thrall had retired for the night to his quarters to find Jaina in there, waiting for him.

“Hello, my heart,” she said.

“My love,” Thrall replied, and sat down heavily on the bed.

“I’ve missed you, but that goes without saying.” Jaina sat down beside him, and curled an arm across his shoulder.

“It’s nice to hear it, though. I’ve missed you too.” He hugged her back.

“It’s been busy, right?” she asked.

“By the spirits, you might be the only one who has any idea,” Thrall said. “How _ever_ did they get by without me here to decide everything?”

Jaina poked him in the ribs. “They kind of _haven’t_ gotten by,” she pointed out. “Hence the problems we all got mired in.”

“Ow!” Thrall swatted her hand away. “I can’t imagine it’s any different for you,” he ventured.

“Oh, _fuck_ no,” Jaina swore. “Idiots and imbeciles all.” She smiled. “I wouldn’t trade them for anything, though. They need me, and I’m good at it.”

“You’re good at most anything you put your mind to, Jaina,” he noted.

“Flatterer.” Jaina said, leaning into him. “You know that will get you anywhere.”

“Even your bed?” Thrall asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jaina grinned. “ _Especially_ my bed. Though we’re going to have to do something about the travel time.

Thrall smiled, and stood up. He walked to the far wall, and turned to face her. “Remember back in the day, when you were the big chieftain of a tattered fishing tent called Theramore?

Jaina gave him a look. “When you were the big king of dirt mountain, you mean?”

“Exactly!” He pushed on a hidden panel in the wall, and it spun out of the way, revealing a small, person-sized alcove. “You’d set up a portal so we could visit each other more easily,” he recalled.

Jaina stood up from the bed, and strode over to examine the alcove. “You had this built already?” she asked.

Thrall nodded. “Built to your portalling specifications, if I remember the details right.”

Jaina stuck her head in, then pulled back. “You did. This is perfect.” He looked at her. “I’ll have to prepare a similar alcove on my end, but, yes, we can set up a permanent portal here, from Orgrimmar to Kul Tiras.”

“Just for us,” Thrall said with a smile.

“Just for us,” Jaina agreed. “Until then, we’ll have to settle for getting into _your_ bed,” she said.

“My bed will have everything needed.”

“Will it?” Jaina teased him.

“Of course,” Thrall said, as he led her over. “It has you.”


End file.
